Unhinged
by writerspassion18
Summary: Running, hiding, secrets, and war. It's only natural to go a little crazy.
1. The Waiting Game

"We need to come up with a plan, Hermione."

"I know that, Ron. You say it every day."

"Yes, but only because we never actually sit down and do it."

"You know we don't have time to do that. We only have time to-"

"Survive, I know. You say _that_ every day."

It was true. A day in the current hell they lived in could only hold so much and it usually only consisted of the bare necessities to live. Bathe (if one could call it bathing) when afforded the opportunity, eat if you can, _never_ get caught, _always_ find somewhere to lay your head at night, and sleep however empty it may be.

There was no room to plan.

"Even if we did plan," Hermione said sadly as she sat cross-legged on a worn child's bed. "We don't have the numbers behind us. You and I can't do this alone."

"I know." Ron replied with a frown of his own, but a smile soon replaced it. "That's why we're going to Edinburgh. To see if we find some of our friends there."

Hermione nodded. Yes. She and Ron were heading into the snake pit that was Edinburgh because they had gotten word that some Order members had set up shop there. And if _they_ knew about it, then _Voldemort_ knew about it. Everything would be waiting there. Deatheaters. Dementors. Snatchers. It was suicide where she and Ron were planning to go, but the odds of reuniting with people on their side was much too promising to ignore. Harry would've agreed.

If he was alive.

* * *

Draco hated Edinburgh. He hated most populated areas and longed to be back home where there was nothing but where he lived and open land. Grass that stretched for miles, a tree line that essentially closed it in, and silence. Glorious silence. Perhaps that's why Voldemort still called Malfoy Manor headquarters. As for Draco, he had no true home of his own. He was always out on some sort of assignment or another that required him to travel to a new city or country.

It was amazing (and downright scary) to see how far Voldemort's reign had reached over the course of three years. England was his. Scotland. France. Italy as well. Germany and Russia were both putting up pretty good fights, but Draco gave it another year, year and a half before they both succumbed. He imagined India would be next. The country itself was well-aware of that and while the Ministry of Magic there prepared itself well in advance, evacuations had long been in place.

There was one good consequence of being temporarily stationed in Edinburgh, though. He and the other Deatheaters with him got to stay in Edinburgh Castle. Dark and perilous times kept the castle from being the tourist attraction that it was, and it was proving to be the perfect place to watch over the land. Lofty and immense, Draco could see out for miles. It was what Voldemort wanted. A constant reminder that his eyes were everywhere.

"And yet he still can't keep up with Potter's ghost." Draco mused to himself as he lazily walked along the castle's perimeter. Potter was dead, yes. Many of his supporters were either dead, imprisoned, or enslaved. But the key ones –the ones who were just as much a symbol of hope to many people as Potter was –they were still running amok. That's why he was here in Edinburgh. Voldemort wanted him and the others to weed them out and "obliterate them."

Easier said than done, of course. As far as Draco knew, the band of misfits he was there to round up was headed by the female redhead of the Weasel family. She was the _last_ person that he wanted to run into. He didn't know what fueled her most; whether wanting Voldemort's downfall, the need to avenge those she'd lost, or the gratification she must have gotten at knowing that Potter would have been proud of her. Whatever it was, her inner rage knew no bounds and she could take an enemy out with the simplest of charms. Draco was unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of a bit of her magic about a year ago. It caused him to limp for almost six months, and even now the bone in his hip hurt when it rained too hard or the weather grew too cold.

Draco sighed as he headed back into the castle and traversed the vast halls. He thought of the resistance as he did and the cruel looks they shot his way whenever he crossed their paths. He only wished that they weren't so fueled by hate for his "profession" to see that he wasn't as ruthless as his counterparts. The Killing Curse never left his lips unless he was being watched. He never went on the offensive, and he always defended with spells that would leave his victim well enough to still fight and able to recover within a short period of time. But nobody saw that. _No_ _one_ saw that. All the resistance knew was that he was Draco Malfoy: Deatheater. End of story. No questions needed.

Sometimes Draco wondered if this was how Snape had felt. Through whispers in the streets (and eventually from Voldemort's own mouth), he knew that Snape had been a spy. He knew that his loyalties had never truly been with the Dark Lord and that he had been Dumbledore's pet for years. It had been a kick to the gut for Voldemort when he finally realized the truth, and he made it a point to every supporter in his ranks that if they betrayed him, death would be a greater pleasure than what he'd put them through.

Draco believed him.

And yet he risked his life every time he did something that he wasn't supposed to. Luckily for him, he was smart about his actions. But then again, so had Snape. At least the bloody snake was dead…

"Ready to go, Draco?"

Draco turned to Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini who seemed to have been walking towards his bedroom suite. To be honest, Draco hadn't even realized that's where his feet had been taking him.

"I'd rather be in bed." Draco grumbled. "But yeah, we can go. Just let me grab my cloak."

No masks. Just the cloak. Voldemort ran everything now. He was the Minister of Magic. He was the law. He was _everything_ , and therefore there was no reason for any Deatheater to hide. Draco pushed open two large oak wood doors which led to its own small hallway. His bedroom suite was more than that really. It was like his own little (a huge understatement) house. The hall led to another hall that stretched horizontally. Down this area was four bedrooms, two studies, a modern kitchen constructed within the last fifty years, two bathrooms, a tea room, a _massive_ library, and a lovely balcony where Draco spent a large portion of his time when he wasn't "on duty." It was this not-so-humble abode that made Draco forget that he was on the dark side of an uneven war. He could forget the terrors that he was forced to watch and to sometimes participate in. It allowed him to think that he was on a resolute island and enjoying a vacation.

That is, of course, until it was time to patrol. And it was this part of the "job," somehow more than anything else, that Draco loathed Voldemort the most for. The Deatheaters that he most often put on resistance-capture detail were the new recruits. Now Draco and his friends were hardly new, but they were new by comparison to the Deatheaters who had been Voldemort's followers during the first war. Voldemort claimed that they were the ones most apt to hunt down the resistance because its members were all people their own age. They went to school with them. They knew them much better than the more seasoned Deatheaters did. It only made sense that it would be them.

Draco, however, wasn't stupid. Voldemort wanted to get rid of the weak. The resistance was nothing but a bunch of kids –young adults like himself –who had to grow up too fast, but that didn't mean they were immature fighters. They had skill. His thoughts went back to Ginny Weasley again and he scowled viciously. Yes, people like her had the potential to take them all down. And that's what Voldemort wanted. He couldn't afford pathetic soldiers, and this was the best way to determine who truly deserved to have the Dark Mark on their forearms.

As Draco took in his bedroom, subsequently the rest of the suite –no his _wing_ , he reflected on how Voldemort had informed him that the previously sealed off area had been unsealed specifically for his use. Everyone else slept in what was previously servants' quarters.

Draco huffed at the thought of it. He must've been pretty damn deserving.

* * *

Remaining unseen was of utmost importance. Travel was often done by night as it made it much easier to obscure the rest of Hermione's face that wasn't already covered by the oversized hood of her cloak. With Ron by her side they maneuvered dark streets and alleyways. They hid in the shadows away from any Snatchers and Dementors. They slept in abandoned buildings when they could and ditches when they couldn't. They had been traveling like this for two days now so that they could make it to Edinburgh before nightfall. They'd find an abandoned place to rest for a few hours and then the real danger would begin.

Just like every town that Voldemort occupied, Deatheaters patrolled it at night. In the wee hours of the night Dementors came out to play. They knew, just as Hermione, that all of the "good stuff" happened at night. Drunks came out and talked too much. Gamblers came out and dished what they knew for a shiny coin. Order members came out and plotted. Although Hermione and Ron weren't sure as to whether they'd get lucky enough to see someone from the Order their first night there, it was certainly a hope.

"This one looks pretty abandoned." Hermione said as she stood on the stairs of a paint-peeling apartment building. She took another look around her to make sure no one saw her going in and awkwardly held her wand in the middle so that it stayed hidden in her sleeve. "Alohomora,"

The door opened and she quickly slipped herself inside. "Homenem Revelio,"she whispered. Her heart always raced when she used that spell. What if the person who was there (if the spell revealed him or her) was in a room right next door? What if he or she suddenly descended the stairs, spotted her, and then a fight ensued? And what if that fight attracted the ears of a Snatcher or Deatheater? What would happen then? Well, she'd fight of course, but how would it end?

"Your thoughts are racing." Ron's voice hit her ears. Hermione took a deep breath and headed up the stairs. If they were going to choose an apartment to hide away in for a bit, it was better not to be right by the front door.

"My thoughts are always on the run. What makes now any different?"

"Because the thoughts you're having now are making you paranoid."

"Thanks for the diagnosis, Dr. Weasley."

Ron laughed, albeit a soft one. Hermione cracked a smile of her own as they made it to the third floor. She unlocked the door and headed inside, letting her smile linger as she took in the small apartment. It wasn't often that she got to stay in such a nice place. Sure, there were cobwebs. Sure, there were cracks in the walls. Sure, there was blood. Sure, the air smelled of death like the fight that had happened here took place just hours ago. But under all that there was a living room. There was a sofa that must've felt heavenly. There was a kitchen which, upon further inspection, had glasses, plates, and utensils in the cupboards. Beyond that and down the hallway was a bedroom with a lovely-looking mattress sans bedsheets or pillows. Next to that there was a bathroom –not to mention a shower that worked!

Hermione could've cried. In fact she did. She let her wand fall out of her sleeve as she dropped to her knees in the middle of the hallway and just sobbed her heart out. Were every threat to her life not swarming around this once-beautiful city, she could've lived here. Blood and all. It was the closest thing she'd felt to having a home in years, and it almost made her wish she didn't find any Order members any time soon.

Almost.

With a shiver and a sigh Hermione rose to her feet and casted locking charms on the door. For extra safety she added an alarm to let her know if someone came in. The windows were next, charmed in a way to allow her to look out of them but so no one could peer in. A couple more flicks of her wand cleared away all the blood staining the walls and the floor as well as the smell that suddenly made her want to gag. Once that was finished she headed straight for the bathroom. Ron had disappeared on her, but that was normal. He'd reappear soon with words of encouragement or new tactics, but for now, Hermione was on her own.

Once in the bathroom she shut and locked the door and stood in the middle of the room. It was a small bathroom. Standing where she was and her arms outstretched she could touch everything there –the moldy shower curtain, the grimy sink, the disgusting toilet. Hermione's wand was going again to get rid of everything that made the room vomit-worthy and set it on the toilet lid once she was finished.

With the water running Hermione slipped off all of her clothes slowly, letting her eyes drift over every inch of her as she did so. Her body could be a book on war. Every part of her had a story. There was a scar on her stomach from when a Snatcher slashed her with a knife. There was another one on her neck –a close call –when a Deatheater's spell missed an artery and continued jetting right past her. Her arms and legs were covered in healed cuts and bruises from exploding debris, splintered wood, rocks, and other jagged edges piercing her skin from various fights and running for her life. Every encounter she'd been in over the years always ended up in death, but obviously not her own. It tore her up inside having to take a life, Deatheater or not. It wasn't all that hoo-ha about a life being a life no matter whose it was. Rather it was more her feeling that whenever she killed someone, it made her a murderer just like them –with death on her hands.

No matter her feelings, it had to be done. Everyone thought that she was dead, and until she could reunite herself with the Order, she intended for everyone to keep thinking that way.

"What do you think about that inn over there?" Ron asked her. Hermione spied the one he was talking about and grimaced. Like most of the inns they came across, this one held a pub down below and several rooms up above. It was dark and dank, and it appeared that the seediest looking people imaginable frequented it. Good for her and Ron's purposes, yes, but it still made Hermione's skin crawl.

"It's perfect. Should we wait until it gets darker?"

"No, we should go now. This isn't London. We don't know what to expect the later it gets."

Hermione kept in her sigh. She really wanted to spend more time in this gemstone of an apartment. Instead she nodded and headed into the bedroom. There was a full-length mirror in there that had somehow survived the catastrophe that had occurred here without a single crack. Most times, she only ever got to see her reflection from her shoulders up. To see all of her now… Well, it didn't paint much of a pretty picture. She looked worn. She looked tired. She looked defeated. Luckily her fighter's spirit wasn't as decrepit as her outward appearance.

With her wand in hand Hermione set to work. She changed her brown hair to blonde. Her eyes she kept the same, but altered her cheeks some to make them more full. Plumper lips (more for personal satisfaction rather than to add to her disguise). Freckles. Dimples. Tanned skin. When she was finished Ron appeared in the doorway and analyzed her face.

"Pretty disguise."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks."

"It's a problem."

Now she frowned. "Why?"

"We're heading into a place with the sickest people." Ron explained. "We don't need the attention."

Hermione was staring into the mirror at her reflection. The last time she felt beautiful – _truly_ beautiful –was that night at the Yule Ball. That was six years ago. How pathetic was that?

She sighed and used her wand to clean up her cloak a bit before tucking her wand up the sleeve. "I know, but we also need information. At least half the people in that pub are bound to be a drunken mess. Seduction will work wonders."

"I hope you know what you're doing…"

Hermione gulped. Ron's fear was palpable. It was also reasonable. Regardless of the matter she was undoing the charms she had placed on the door and walking through it. As she put them back up, an overwhelming sense of dread overtook her. She no longer felt safe. The apartment door had separated her from the dangers outside. Not really, of course, but _mentally_. For a brief moment Hermione was able to forget what was waiting for her out there. She had had a shower for Merlin's sake. There'd been soap too, and the feel of the slippery bar across her skin had been the greatest gift the universe could have ever given her.

Outside the apartment building Hermione felt exposed. She had her hood down and the passersby took notice. Some nodded to her. Others smiled grimly. Few actually waved. The latter made her stomach churn, and it was those same individuals who were heading to the inn.

Hermione braced herself and went inside. She quickly scanned the room and weighed her options. Despite there still being at least one hour before the sun set, the pub was at seventy-five percent capacity. That limited her seating options severely and so she had to pick wisely. Sitting directly at the bar would make her much less conspicuous, but the odds of hearing something worth wild would be close to nil. Not to mention she wouldn't be able to watch anyone. Sometimes it was more worthwhile and more telling to observe people's actions than to hear what they actually said. There were a few open tables in the center of the room, but that would make her feel very much like bait. Her best option would be a booth, and as luck would have it, there was one that was open towards the back end of the pub.

She darted for it and sat down with a complacent sigh. Ron, yet again, was nowhere in sight. This was how it always went. He'd hide in the shadows and watch out for her, giving her advice from a distance. It was an excellent strategy. All Hermione had to do now was sit, drink, and wait for something to happen.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Hello again! So, I've never written anything war-related, but I'm excited to venture into something new :). Chapters are probably going to be a decently long length (definitely nothing less than 3,000 per chap). Also, I'm still currently writing this although the first fourteen chapters are already done (yey!). There's still going to be a decent gap between each chapter though (two weeks probably rather than my standard once, sometimes twice a week) just so I can have time to write.

Also, I rated this "M" just to be on the safe side. Anyway, I hope that you liked the first chapter! Please feel free to drop a review, and thanks for reading! Hope you continue :)

-WP


	2. Sleep

Edinburgh had its districts much like London and other large cities. Some parts of it were purely wizarding areas, others muggle, and others a mixture of both. In wizarding areas everyone (as well as the other districts sans muggle) was registered, and with that registration it detailed whether someone was pureblood, half-blood, or rarely, a squib. That determined which forms of employment a person could hold, not to mention how close they faced a Deatheater on a day to day basis. Government posts, for example, were purely pureblood held, and every decision was run by a Deatheater before a final answer was given. Less higher up positions, but by no means menial, were held by half-bloods. Basically that meant becoming a teacher or occupying any and every position that didn't have judiciary power in the Ministry of each respective country. Lines were blurred, of course, such as Departments of Wizard Law and National and International Diplomacy. Squibs, and sometimes less deserving half-bloods, did menial or unimportant work in local towns –running inns and shoppes, to be precise.

With the way wizarding districts were set up, they were the easiest to patrol. They had the best lives. As long as they fell in line with the law and had proof of their blood status on hand, they had absolutely nothing to fear.

Muggle districts had it the hardest, and their populations were monitored _very_ closely. That was where mudbloods were born after all. Medical staff (most often a muggle or a squib) documented every child born. As a child grew, he or she was watched carefully. A Deatheater's patrol duty in these areas were taken the most seriously. Each Deatheater was given a list of children. Any sign of magic, even the slightest suspicion, and the child's fate was sealed. Some mudbloods did manage to slip through the cracks though. Their births were either not recorded or their death's faked. In the end they most often ended up in a mixed district where being able to differentiate their blood status from another (but more magically "deserving") wizard was impossible.

And _that_ made Draco laugh. Without identification, a pureblood or half-blood was recognizable because he or she lived in a wizarding district. A muggle was recognizable because he or she lived in a muggle district. A squib was recognizable, no matter where he or she lived, because they had no magic at all. A mudblood was recognizable because every potential one was monitored from birth. _But in a mixed district?_ People were people, and Voldemort was a fool to think otherwise.

With a sigh, Draco walked along the streets of a particularly cringe-worthy mixed district of Edinburgh: Newington. A mixed district was a hodgepodge of witches and wizards of both kinds, squibs, and very few muggles. Patrol in this kind of district could be good or bad. Mudbloods trying to hide _always_ sought refuge there. Thus, Deatheater patrol became bad when there was suspicion of a mudblood in town and he had to search him or her out. Depending on whether or not Draco was patrolling alone, when found, that person was either very fortunate or _very_ unlucky. Considering that Theo and Blaise were the closest people he had to true friends, the mudblood usually ended up dead.

These days keeping his nose out for a whiff of mudblood news was last on Draco's priority list. He, Theo, and Blaise were on the lookout for resistance members. Any dead mudbloods would be a bonus.

"Let's get a drink." Blaise said suddenly and began leading the small group to a local inn. Draco scowled.

"We're not finished yet."

"Come on, Draco. I know you're the Dark Lord's special little fighter and everything, but he's not going to know you're slacking off."

"He's right, mate." Theo grinned as he clapped a hand on Draco's back. "It's only a drink."

Draco's eyes stared hideously at what he could see of Theo's hand. Theo didn't notice and continued ushering him towards the nicest inn the mixed district had to offer. And that was saying something…

"Looks like somebody has a death wish."

Draco snapped his eyes to Theo whose own were directed towards a booth near the back. A pretty blonde was sitting there and practically chugging her drink. The particular booth she was in was _their_ booth. Everyone knew that that booth was reserved for Deatheaters only. For this woman to sit there so calmly, so blatantly, only meant that she was new to Edinburgh. New usually meant refugee. And refugee usually meant mudblood.

 _Damn it._ Draco cursed. He followed Theo and Blaise to the barkeep and Blaise whistled him over –squib.

"Andy, who the hell is that?"

Andy the barkeep looked in the direction Blaise had nodded to and he blanched. That was an incredible feat considering his complexion was the same as the Italian Deatheater.

"Y-you don't know her?"

"If we did I wouldn't be asking." Blaise snarled at him. "I repeat, who is that?"

"I –I don't know." Andy stammered. "She came in about an hour and a half ago. Sat right at that booth with little pause. I assumed she had a meeting with you."

"Well, you know what they say about assumptions." Theo smiled. His voice had addressed Andy, but his eyes were focused hard on the blonde who was using her finger to wipe the foam off the edge of her glass. He licked his lips once. "Must be a mudblood."

"I hope not." Blaise said, he too giving her a steady look over. "She's too pretty to kill."

"Then let's go make nice before we start plotting her death." Draco chimed in. He was the first to walk over to the booth and his heart drummed erratically in his chest. Whoever this girl was was on death's door and she didn't even know it. She looked innocent enough. Petite, quiet, perhaps a little tense since she'd just started chugging yet another drink, but that's all. Depending on the answers she gave in the next few minutes, she'd be outed as a mudblood. If not, she'd get to keep her life. But even then the consequences of living and having the affections of Theo, worse yet Blaise, wasn't a pretty picture either.

Draco felt an immense amount of pain for this girl no matter the outcome.

* * *

The booth where Hermione sat was perfect. It seemed that the acoustics made her booth the perfect spot to hear everything. Visually she could see every inch of the pub. The first hour there she sat patiently, keeping her ears open for anything interesting and drinking pumpkin juice. Despite the creepy perverts sitting around, none of them dared to approach her. She was surprised. Not to endorse any conceited feelings, but Hermione was sure that her disguise was man bait. To have not a _single_ man try to hit on her was unsettling, not to mention insulting.

Hermione was beginning to think that she'd adopted the face of a Deatheater. She'd fallen prey to that mistake once before, and although she had gotten plenty of useful information that night, things went sour towards the end and it was something she did _not_ want to repeat. And so she continued to wait. She heard conversations about people's dates. About the weather. About what building someone was thinking about moving into next. Basically any and everything that wasn't of interest to her.

After an hour had passed, rounding off to an hour and a half, Hermione had opted out of the pumpkin juice and went on to drinking butterbeer mixed with firewhiskey. It was probably a poor choice to mix in stronger alcohol, but she was feeling anxious and this was the most calming thing she could think about doing. Although, however warm her insides felt as the warm liquor swam down her throat and settled in her stomach, nothing in the world could've helped her as the door to the pub swung open and in stepped three people she had hoped she'd never see.

Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott.

Hermione could've sworn they looked straight at her. But that was just her imagination, right? Out of everyone in the pub, they couldn't have settled their eyes _immediately_ on her, could they? She finished off her spiked butterbeer in the blink of an eye and rapidly called for another drink -firewhiskey this time, straight. The three Deatheaters were talking to the barkeep now, and although Hermione was keeping her gaze straight, she could see from her periphery, clear as day, that they were looking right at her.

 _You have to leave. You have to get out of here_ _ **now**_ _!_ Came Ron's voice out of nowhere.

 _I can't Ron._ Hermione thought back calmly although on the inside she was panicking. _They've seen me. If I go, they'll think it suspicious._

 _They already find you suspicious!_

 _Then I'm not adding to it._

 _Hermione!_

"Hello there."

Hermione looked up at the three Deatheaters who were now crowding around her booth. Now it wasn't like she hadn't faced Deatheaters before. And it wasn't like she'd never killed a Deatheater before either. But her kill list held more Snatchers than anything else and they were, by far, the easiest to dispose of. They were cocky and careless and that worked to her advantage. Deatheaters, on the other hand, were cocky, yes, but they were hardly careless. They couldn't be if they wanted to stay within Voldemort's ranks. To kill one required skill, tact, and a plan. She had the skill. She had tact. But to come up with a plan to deal with not just one, but three Deatheaters? Her odds weren't good.

"Hello." Hermione replied cordially. She wished now more than ever that she had modified her voice. It hadn't been a thought at first considering her chances of coming across a Deatheater that was once a classmate was practically nothing. Damn her luck.

"You're new to town, aren't you?" Theo continued. Hermione tried to keep her nervous swallow unnoticed. She'd heard stories about him –mostly about him and women. He was likely to keep them alive and treat them with the utmost care and respect. But if you got on his bad side, he could easily be the worst man who ever walked the earth. Blaise, who stood to Theo's left, held the same reputation, but he skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the dark side of him. Was there even a good side?

"What makes you think I'm new?"

Blaise's smile was a mixture of lust and utter wickedness. Did he like what she'd said or despise it?

"Well, love, you see everyone who lives around here knows that this particular booth is reserved for Deatheaters." Blaise explained. He had placed a hand on the edge of the table and leaned forward slightly. The cologne he was wearing was intoxicating, she had to admit, but since it was it was hanging on the flesh of a murderer, it swiftly lost its appeal. "This is _our_ table."

"Oh…"

Hermione knew she should've faked fright. She knew she should've widened her eyes, sunk back in her seat, squirmed some, or at the very least casted her gaze towards her lap. There wasn't a single soul who didn't cower in the face of a Deatheater. And so, to be faced with three of them head on she knew she should've done _something_ of the like. But no matter the logic behind what she _should do_ , she couldn't bring herself to do it. She let her gaze pass over all three of them, her eyes settling on the third Deatheater she'd yet to scrutinize.

Draco Malfoy.

The blond man before her was an enigma. Whereas every other Deatheater's exploits, their preferred killing methods, their general reputations really, were common knowledge, Draco's were not. Quite frankly it was easy to forget that he was a Deatheater at all. This, perhaps, was what made him the most dangerous. Hermione could calculate Blaise's and Theo's moves with ease, but Draco's? She couldn't predict his movements any better than she could forecast the weather correctly for the next fifty years.

"I'm sorry." Hermione apologized. "You're right. I am new to town. I –I'll just go. I didn't mean to-"

"Someone as pretty as you needn't apologize." Theo smiled handsomely. "But, first things first, we'll need to see some identification."

Hermione nodded and rummaged through her robes. Identification wasn't simply a name and a face. Identification in this hideous world was a piece of damage-proof parchment with an individual's face and their blood status written directly underneath it. A year back Hermione had killed a Snatcher whose identification had identified her as a half-blood. With a bit of tweaking, she'd made it so that whatever disguise she had taken on, the ID would mimic the same changes. There was always the chance that she would get asked for it, and so she had always wanted to be prepared. And so, when Hermione fished out the identification that Theo had asked for, he was presented with a small slip of parchment with her newly adopted face and her blood status neatly written as "half-blood." She held her breath as he took out his wand and waved over it. The non-verbal spell he was reciting was to detect whether her ID was fake or not. It certainly wasn't fake, but it _was_ modified. Luckily, the spell wasn't designed to detect such modifications, but Hermione always feared that one day it would and she'd be screwed.

At least it wasn't today.

"What's your name?" Theo asked as he handed her identification back.

"Clarissa James,"

"Lovely name,"

Hermione tried her hardest not to blush as she put away her ID. "Thank you. Once again, I'm sorry for sitting at your table. I'll go."

"What's the rush?" Blaise grinned as he slid himself into the booth next to her. Hermione felt her skin itch. "You may not be a pureblood, but you're right better than a mudblood. Have another drink with us. We'll take care of the tab."

Hermione wanted to protest, but Theo had sat down opposite her and Draco sat down at the edge next to Theo.

"So, Miss James," Blaise said as he placed his arm behind her, resting on the back of the booth, his thumb gently grazing her shoulder. "Where are we visiting from?"

Hermione resisted the urge to gag. "London,"

"Excellent city. Wonderful people." Theo commented. Hermione wanted to burn her skin off. A leg, she could only imagine it to be Theo's, was sliding against her own. She further wanted to scorch herself when Blaise's free hand found its way to her thigh. She tried her best to ignore them. To ignore the leg boldly caressing hers. To ignore the fingers drawing circles on her thigh and riding up every few seconds. Theo could only reach her but so much, but Blaise was in a prime position to do whatever he wished under the cover of their table. Although she was in the middle of a crowded pub, surrounded by three Deatheaters, she'd be damned to be so blatantly groped. Dying by protecting her privates was certainly a worthy effort. Just as Hermione was going to send a Stinging Jinx Blaise's way, he retracted his hand as well as the arm that was behind her. He was grunting in pain and so was Theo. Draco was unaffected and smirked at his fellow cohorts.

"Looks like the two of you have work to do."

"The hell?" Blaise scowled. "How come he's not calling you too?"

"Don't know, don't care." Draco said plainly. "Get moving."

"Yeah, yeah. While we're off, looks like it's just you to take care of Miss James, here."

" _Excuse me?_ " Draco cocked a brow. Hermione, on the other hand, finally emitted that squirm in her seat.

"I laid down a couple galleons on a room." Blaise explained. "Might as well make the most of it." He winked.

"When the bloody hell did you have time to do that?"

"Does it matter? Just give the half-blood something to do with her Wednesday night."

Blaise flashed Hermione an arrogant smile. Theo, too, flashed her one of the same. Draco did neither and merely stared at them as though they'd each grown a second head. Soon the blond was scowling before he turned to Hermione and gestured towards the stairs at the very back of the pub.

"After you, Miss James." Draco said pleasantly although there was clear disdain in his voice. Hermione, although she was still trying to figure a way out of this, stood and went where his gesture was leading her.

Hermione took to the stairs, carefully weighing her options as Draco took up the rear and followed her up to the second landing. Obviously there was no hexing him right there on the stairs. She'd only cause a scene and who knew if Blaise and Theo were still in the pub or close enough to hear the ruckus? On the second floor Draco took the lead. Hermione thought about quickly darting back down the stairs and out the door. There'd be no apparating as every town under Voldemort's reign had strong anti-apparation wards on them for anyone that wasn't a Deatheater. And so, she'd run. She'd run hard and fast until she could slip him and then continue hiding once again.

Bur before Hermione could make her escape, Draco's hand found hers and he began leading her along the narrow hallway. She cursed under her breath. A quick Stunning Spell would do the trick. There'd be no need to run then. She could calmly head back downstairs, head out the door, and then make it back to the apartment. That could work! But she'd wait until they were in the room. The last thing she needed was for someone to come into the hall and find a stunned Deatheater on the ground. This had to be done carefully, and Hermione took a deep breath, her wand still carefully concealed on the inside of her sleeve.

Draco had led her to the last room on the right. She noted that he hadn't asked Blaise what room he had paid for, nor did he ask the barkeep. And yet, if they had a reserved table, it was pretty much a guarantee that they had a reserved room as well. The simple thought of it made Hermione's stomach lurch. She could just see it. Night after night. Girl after girl. Did they even change the bedsheets in this place?

Hermione was ushered into the room first. _Excellent._ She stood at the foot of the bed with her wand ready to drop neatly into her hand. Draco's back was to her as he closed and warded the door with the proper spells. The tip of her wand at her fingers was sending a shiver of excitement through her and she was ready. She'd stun him, watch his body slump to the floor, cart it away from blocking the exit and then leave. Wait, no, she wouldn't just leave. She'd kill him. One less Deatheater to worry about and his cohorts wouldn't know where to find her because "Clarissa James" didn't exist.

Draco turned around.

Hermione's wand slipped down.

He opened his mouth.

So did she.

"I'll sleep on the couch. You can take the bed."

Hermione paused. She hid her wand behind her back and scrunched her brows in confusion. "What?"

"The bed," Draco repeated. "You can have it. I'll sleep over here."

Hermione blinked rapidly as she watched Draco walk over to the long couch that sat just beneath the windows to the right of the bed. He sat down and stretched, his eyes no longer focused on her. She was bewildered to say the least, but that didn't take away from her plan. She was still standing before the bed, her wand in her hand and held behind her. Draco had slipped off his cloak and set it on armrest on the opposite end of the couch. He had taken two couch cushions and piled them on top of one another. Was he _really_ preparing himself for bed? _Alone?_

Her grip on her wand tightened. He still wasn't looking at her. Forget stunning him. His attention was far from her and if the Killing Curse rolled off her tongue right that instant he wouldn't be able to deflect it or jump out of the way in time. Draco Malfoy could be dead in less than two seconds. _Could be_. The longer she stared, the more comfortable he became on the hideous couch, the more curious she became over his actions and she needed answers. No, she demanded them.

"You're not going to sleep with me?"

Draco, who had lain down, his head resting comfortably on his small stack of pillows, finally turned his eyes on her for the first time since giving her sole custody of the bed. His brow arched.

"I was under the impression you didn't want to."

"I don't."

"Then I won't."

Draco cupped his hands over his chest and closed his eyes. Hermione was completely knocked off her feet by his answer. Any other Deatheater would've had his way with her the moment the door had closed behind them. But him, he…wasn't going to.

 _Kill him. Kill him now!_

 _Ron, where the hell have you been?!_

 _Watching out for you, you know that. Now, go on. Get rid of him!_

 _I want to, I do, but…he hasn't done anything. He hasn't done a_ _ **single**_ _, terrible thing to me._

 _But he_ _ **will**_ _. He's a Deatheater. And even if he isn't doing anything horrible to you now, he_ _ **will**_ _. It's in his nature._

Hermione briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Ron was right. She knew that. But she'd only ever killed when being attacked. It was easy to justify her actions then. It was kill or be killed. It was kill or be outed that she was still alive. And yet, wouldn't Draco Malfoy's death by her hand be justified as well? He was a murderer. He was among Voldemort's most loyal followers. To kill him now would rid the world of more deaths. She would be looked on as a hero for aiding the cause.

With a silent sigh, Hermione reopened her eyes. When she did she couldn't help the gasp that escaped her mouth as Draco towered over her. He was focused on her face, more specifically her eyes. Could he read the fear in them?

Draco let his gaze roam over her disguised face, settling once again on her eyes. "I'll take that, thanks."

The "that" he was referring to was her wand. Without looking away, Draco's hand gravitated to hers and slipped over it slowly as though his hand was a glove. Hermione's wand was gently pulled from between her fingers, and all at once she felt horribly naked. Without her wand she felt completely helpless, and she wished now more than ever that Ron was here and not a mere whisper. With a snap of Draco's fingers her wand had disappeared from view. Hermione suddenly began to panic. What could she do? She could claw at him. She could turn completely feral and scratch his eyes out. Find a way to get to his wand. Kill him, then flee. Yes. It was a plan. It was a good plan. It was-

"Get some rest, Miss James." Draco told her. "You can leave in the morning."

Draco returned to his position on the couch and closed his eyes yet again. Hermione continued to stand there, trying to wrap her mind around what had really just happened. Draco Malfoy, known Deatheater, _really_ expected the two of them to sleep, not together, not in the same bed, and then go their separate ways at daybreak.

She could wait until he was asleep to search him for his wand, but she knew how dangerous that would be. If he could so swiftly move without a sound and slip her wand away from her, she could imagine that he was the lightest sleeper and would know the moment she touched the hem of his sleeve. Besides, as much as she hated to admit it, Draco was _actually_ being a gentleman. Hermione knew that it was in her best interest not to press her luck, and if he wasn't in the mood to take advantage of her tonight, much less kill her, she was going to count her blessings.

With nothing else to do, Hermione hesitantly climbed onto the bed. The springs made awful noises and Draco moved in his sleep. She continued getting comfortable once he stopped and sighed once her head hit the pillow. Her body was turned in such a way that she could keep her eyes on the Deatheater in the room at all times.

"Sleep," Hermione snorted under her breath. If she got any sleep while being in the room with him, it would have to be an eternal one.

* * *

 **Author's note:** First off, thanks for the feedback for the first chapter everyone! I consider nine reviews for one chapter an accomplishment :). Probably my favorite thing about this chapter was his last scene with Draco and Hermione in the room. There's more to Draco than meets the eye!

-WP


	3. Haunted

When Draco woke in the morning it was still dark. His watch said eight a.m., but the dark, swirling clouds in the sky made it seem like it was still in the wee hours of the night. He sighed, knowing that he'd have to leave and head back to the castle soon, but truth be told he'd rather stay exactly where he was. No, the dank room he was in could hardly compare to the lush luxury that awaited him when he returned to his fellow Deatheaters, but he couldn't help the calm that he felt just being there. He knew it was because of the pretty girl –the pretty young _woman_ who lay on the bed not too far from him.

Draco had known she was different from the moment he, Theo, and Blaise had walked up to her just last night. Deatheaters didn't have to be announced. They were _known_. The way she had carried herself –her posture, her answers to his companion's questions… He couldn't tell if she was scared or not, and the fact that he was unable to was remarkable. Those very traits screamed resistance. Only someone on the side of the Light could so boldly interact with a Deatheater the way that she had. Not to mention that she'd said she came from London. No one just _came_ from anywhere. Where he or she was born was where he or she stayed. That was the norm these days, unless someone was a refugee. Theo and Blaise had been suffering from a lack of proper blood flow to take note of such details. He was glad that they had. They would've killed her if they had suspected that she was part of the resistance.

A soft snore sounded. Draco looked at his female roommate and smiled to himself. She looked quite peaceful. He also noticed that she looked different than she did from last night. He sat up from his makeshift bed. Soon he stood. He carefully made his way over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. Miss Clarissa James' freckles were gone. Her hair was also a shade darker, although still blonde. This girl, whoever she really was, was a clever witch. He wondered how she had managed that trick with her identification. He was dying to ask her about it, but he knew that the moment he let on that he knew she was in disguise a fight would ensue. And he would win. Instead Draco called for her wand and let it appear in his hand. With simple wand movements her hair was perfectly blonde again and her freckles had returned. The feel of the magic must've aroused her because her eyes started to flutter open. She seemed confused at first, but clarification hit her quickly, and seeing a Deatheater at her side obviously wasn't a good start to her day.

Hermione shot up in bed, scrambling towards the headboard, but Draco shushed her and held out her wand to her.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I swear. Here,"

She looked down at her wand. She looked up at him. Draco was amused at the frightened expression she gave and found it didn't suit her at all. He chuckled and set her wand on the bed. He kept his hands to himself and watched her. Hermione watched him. After a few seconds her hand inched towards her wand, her eyes never leaving him. Once her fingers touched it, it was in her hand again, but she didn't aim it at him. He'd still yet to hurt her, and despite her logic she still didn't have it in her to kill him.

Draco tried to discern the thoughts that were lingering behind her eyes, but she was just as unreadable as himself.

"It's time to get out of here." Draco told her. "I've got things to do, and," here he slyly smirked. "I'm sure you do too."

"I do." She replied with a soft swallow. "So, if you don't mind taking the spells off the door-"

"Not so fast,"

Hermione halted. She had begun moving off of the bed, but Draco had latched onto her wrist. "What?"

"There are a select few people who practically sleep in this pub." He informed her. "Those same people saw us come up here together and, to be frank, I don't leave my women looking so prim and proper after a night together."

"So…that means what then?"

"It means that we have to make this look good."

Hermione's heartrate accelerated rapidly, but calmed once she realized what Draco had intended to do. He had drawn his wand and he hesitated until her body relaxed. She gave a subtle nod and he moved closer, raising his free hand and placing it gently on the back of her neck. A quick spell made a small bruise appear just under the left side of her chin. He did the same to her right side, except towards her collarbone. He set his wand aside, and brought both hands to her hair. He softly ran them through, giving it a light shake here and there to give it a wild look. His hands slid down to the sides of her face when he was done, and Hermione felt self-conscious with his intense stare. Her cheeks flushed when she realized that he was very much focused on her lips.

Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, Draco's lips were on hers. It was a quick brush of his mouth, the distance between them filled once again, but it wasn't much. His lips hovered over hers, and soon they were touching yet again. Their mouths worked together like puzzle pieces that fit. If he wanted her to look flustered, then he was certainly well on his way. It was bad enough that his lips tasted sweet. It was bad enough that one hand was on her neck again, locking her in place. It was bad enough that the tip of his tongue had teasingly swiped against her bottom lip. And it was worse when she met his tongue with her own without an ounce of prodding from him.

 _That_ had surprised Draco immensely, and he deepened the kiss for Merlin knew how long, before eventually pulling away. He rested his head on her forehead and noted that the desired effect of having her lips reasonably plump had been achieved –granted it didn't require as much… _passion_ as had been displayed.

"Are you sure you don't want to…?"

Hermione would've had the wind knocked out of her if it wasn't already. She held back her gulp. "I'm sure."

Draco nodded, his disappointment clearly visible. "As you wish."

Draco got up from the bed then, adjusted his clothes, grabbed his discarded cloak from the night before, and headed towards the door. "Leave five minutes after me."

"I will."

"Good." He placed his hand on the doorknob and paused for a moment. Without looking back he added one more thing. "I suggest you leave Edinburgh."

He left then, and Hermione continued sitting on the bed with the most curious array of emotions going through her. Out of all of them, she felt most ashamed of the one she'd never thought she'd feel towards Draco _bloody_ Malfoy:

Lust.

* * *

Draco had been right about the people who practically slept in the pub. He spotted Old Man Manny in the corner with his missing teeth and nursing a glass of some dark liquor. There was Dotty, a man his own age, but who looked _much_ older, sitting in a booth with his head leaned back and snoring terribly. Agnes, one of the few female patrons of the pub who could drink as much (if not more) as any man. And then there was Georgie, older than Old Man Manny, but despite his liquor intake Draco was sure that he would outlive them all.

"'Morning, Mr. Deatheater sir!"

Georgie always greeted him this way. Were it anyone else Draco would've scowled and told him or her to sod off. But as fate would have it, he liked him.

"Morning, Georgie." He greeted as he stopped by his corner table. "What vile concoction is your breakfast today?"

"Slug Spice on the rocks,"

Draco's face contorted in disgust. "Sounds repulsive,"

"Lunch will be better."

Draco smirked. "I'm sure." He chuckled as he took out a couple galleons and placed them on the table. "Grab dessert with lunch."

"Will do, Mr. Deatheater sir!"

Georgie turned back to his breakfast while Draco left the pub/inn. Once outside he disapparated and soon found himself in the hilly areas that led to Edinburgh Castle. There were several ways to make it inside the castle, but one of them wasn't by apparating. There was only so close he could get by doing so, and it was to the concealed underground entrance that was hidden by a patch of moss. There were four such entrances, each taking up the north, south, east, and west sides of the castle. Aside from the entrances, there was always the Floo Network. Edinburgh Castle was connected to all the other Deatheater strongholds –including Malfoy Manor. The final way was by holding an enchanted coin and disapparating with it. Each coin was designated to a particular stronghold, and so there was no need to think about where he wanted to go. That would be the easiest method of getting back to the castle, of course, but he didn't have the coin on him. They were only to be used when the distance of apparating would increase the chances of splinching.

And so, Draco tapped his wand against the various spots on the moss that would make it disappear from sight. A door revealed itself and he stepped through as though he was a ghost. On the other side was a long, dark corridor that was lighted immediately with a flick of his wand. He followed its long and curvy journey, the ground descending and ascending along the forms of the hills above him. The trek took a solid fifteen minutes. At the end of it he was met with another door, but it couldn't be opened with taps of his wand. Draco hiked up the sleeve of his robe as well as his shirt to reveal the Dark Mark on his left arm. He took a moment to admire it. Despite the evil that it represented, it really was a magnificent piece of fleshly defilement. The intricate design. The dark and light shadings. He couldn't even get started on the incredible dark magic that was imbued within it. A work of art, truly –designed by and branded on him by a monster.

Draco sighed as he raised his arm to the key hole and waited to hear the clicks of the bolts sliding back. The door opened itself, and once again he was inside the peaceful hell that he called home. He had considered heading straight to his suite and locking himself in there until it came time to patrol that night, but two reasons pulled him away from that direction and instead to the dining hall. For one thing, he never missed breakfast. Lunch, maybe. Dinner, more likely. But as for breakfast, it was one thing he could never allow himself to skip out on. The second reason was that Theo and Blaise had been called away to the Dark Lord last night. While he hadn't been the least bit interested to know why he hadn't been called at the time, he was now.

"Ah, just in time for the morning grub." Blaise greeted.

"As always," Draco said nonchalantly as he fully entered the dining hall. He took his customary seat at the end of the eight-seated dining table. It was only when he sat down and placed his napkin on his lap that he noticed a new, yet familiar face at the table as well. "Pansy? What are you doing here?"

Pansy smiled to herself as she lightly buttered her toast. "Nice of you to notice me. I got in last night. I'll be staying here for a bit –Dark Lord's orders."

"Hmm. And who else?"

"Goyle, too." Theo answered.

"Fan _tastic_ ," Draco grumbled inaudibly. "What did the Dark Lord want?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Theo teased. He grinned maliciously until the blond's glare smeared it into a small smirk. "It was recruitment night."

" _Pardon?_ "

"Recruitment," Blaise repeated. "The Dark Lord wanted more Deatheaters here. He asked Theo and me to choose two others to join us."

"And you chose _Parkinson and Goyle?_ "

Pansy snapped an angry gaze towards Draco. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Draco turned to her and sneered. "It means that both you and Goyle are ill-equipped for the mission we have here in Edinburgh. Neither of you are inconspicuous worth a damn, nor are you stealthy. You were terrible choices." He then turned his stern gaze to the other idiots at the table. "Tell the Dark Lord that I don't want them."

Theo's face blanched while Blaise did well to keep his fright in check. It was he who spoke, albeit tentatively. "Mate, you don't _go_ to the Dark Lord without being called. To do that would be…well, it'd be suicide

"Then I suggest you take one for the team." Draco replied coldly. He rose from the table then without a word or another glance at any of them. For the first time in his life, he was _not_ in the mood for breakfast.

* * *

Hermione had left the inn/pub five minutes after Draco did. She had met the curious and daresay _knowing_ gazes some of the pub patrons were giving her, and she tried her best not to blush furiously. Once she made it back to her humble apartment, she casted several Locking and Silencing Charms on the door before pressing her back onto it. She let out a long-held breath and sighed comfortingly. She was back. She was safe. That was the closest call she'd had in a long time and it unnerved her.

"You made it back."

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she stared at Ron standing before her. "Where the hell were you?!"

"You didn't need me."

"Didn't...? _Are you mad?_ I was trapped in a room with a _DEATHEATER_ all night! I could've been raped! I could've been killed!"

"But you weren't."

"I could've-!"

"But you _weren't_." Ron emphasized. He was right in front of her now, the distance between them close to nothing. He wasn't touching her though. He never touched her, and it always made her sad. "I'm always there when you need me, Hermione. You know that. Right then…right then you didn't."

Hermione felt water bubbling in her eyes. She wiped at them, trying to stop the flow of tears before they actually began. It worked, somewhat, and she swallowed before inhaling deeply and stripped herself of her cloak.

"I think we should follow Draco Malfoy."

Ron furrowed his brow. "What?"

"You heard me." Hermione let her cloak fall onto the sofa and she went into the kitchen to prepare whatever non-perishable items were hidden in the cupboards for breakfast. "You-Know-Who is hunting down resistance members. Having word that our friends are here and having _him_ of all Deatheaters here says something to me."

It wasn't just because Draco had struck her as beyond strange last night and she wanted to learn all she could about him. What she said had merit. It was no secret that Voldemort often employed Draco's efforts in trying to round up any and all members of the Order. Seeing him last night, despite being surprised that she had, had only fortified her beliefs in the rumors of the resistance hiding in Edinburgh.

"Is that all you want to do? Follow him?"

Hermione pursed her lips. She'd found a can of beans and figured that would have to do. "For now, yes. I hate to say it, but he's our best shot at finding everyone."

"But he _can't_ find them. If he does-"

"We'll follow him long enough until we have a pretty good idea of where to go."

"And then?"

Hermione turned to Ron and smiled. "We capture him. Interrogate him. And then we end him."

* * *

Draco headed straight to his bedroom after his breakfast "chat" with his friends. When he got there his eyes widened at the sight of a pretty, chocolate-haired young woman reclining on his bed. His voice hitched in his throat. He hadn't been in her company for quite some time –three months, to be exact. Even then he still felt lost in her presence.

"Giselle," Draco said as he closed his door. She smiled sweetly and sat up.

"Draco, darling. You didn't come home last night."

"How observant of you."

Giselle giggled, her dark brown eyes shining brightly. "You have a temper today. Did your lady friend not treat you well?"

His thoughts immediately returned to the kiss he'd shared with "Miss James" and his heart raced. "It was fine."

The corner of her lips curled. "More than fine, if the blush on your face is anything to go by."

Draco scowled and crossed the room to his closet. The wide doors hid his body from view as he discarded his clothing and threw on a fresh set of clothes. He closed the doors with a bit of a slam and nearly jumped out of his skin when he found Giselle by his side.

"How pretty was she?"

Her voice melted him. Her question was genuine. It was full of curiosity and the look in her eyes made it seem that any positive retort on the mysterious inn girl would hurt her. Luckily he didn't have to lie.

"Not more than you."

"But there was something about her, wasn't there?" Giselle pressed. "I was the only person in your life who could ever make your face go red."

"You're still the only one."

"You didn't see what I did."

Draco swallowed and walked away from her. He sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for her to join him as he knew she would. "She's a resistance member."

Giselle knitted her perfect brows together. "How do you know?"

"I'm trained to know."

"So you'll help her then? You'll…you'll do what you couldn't before and you'll help her?"

The desperation in Giselle's voice was absolutely killing him. Draco didn't like to be reminded of his failures. It didn't help that she appeared when he least expected it and served as a painful memory of such a time.

"I already did." Draco replied as he stared blankly out in front of him. "I kept her off the streets last night. I withdrew suspicion from her this morning. I told her to leave Edinburgh."

"That's wonderful. I'm proud of you, Draco, but," Giselle frowned. "If your girl really _is_ a resistance member, she's not going anywhere. You must know that."

He did.

"You have to protect her."

He would.

"Just like you wished you had protected me."

Draco turned to Giselle then, but saw nothing. He was in his bedroom, on his bed, _alone_. Yes, if he came across the mysterious girl again, he would keep her safe.

Maybe then Giselle would stop haunting him.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, so much for me only posting once a week/week and a half… I can never help myself lol. Also, I'm sure you can guess what my favorite part of this whole chapter was :). And of course I feel bad for Draco. The story is called "Unhinged" for a reason!

Thanks for all the support so far! Keep it up, please and thank you :D

-WP


	4. Capture

Draco spent the remainder of his day in his suite. To compensate for breakfast, he had the house elves create a massive brunch. Soon after that he spent the afternoon planning out how patrolling would work tonight. Usually he, Blaise, and Theo fanned out, each taking a set number of districts within Edinburgh. Doing it solo made the chore much faster, not to mention if he came across someone that he could save, he could do it without giving himself away. Now that they were five instead of three, patrolling would certainly get easier, but it still didn't mean that he was happy with the new additions.

Draco suddenly gritted his teeth as his Dark Mark began to burn. It was rare for Voldemort to call any of his followers before the sun set. Something serious must have happened, and so Draco made haste. He grabbed his cloak and left his bedroom, walking three doors down –past two bedrooms and the tea room –until he made it to one of the studies. Inside he marveled at the beautiful room.

There was really too little furniture for the size of the room, but he supposed that that was what made it grand. A large, mahogany desk was at the side of the fireplace on the left side of the room atop a lush, dark blue carpet. Had Draco the time he would've taken a moment to sit in the enormous dark brown armchair that was behind it. From there he could admire the royal blue walls with gold trimmings. The portraits of unknown people in regal attire set in expensive gold frames on the right side of the room. The massive ceiling-to-floor windows that made up the entire back wall much like his bedroom and every room. The grand fireplace, etched to perfection with flowers and vines into the mocha-colored marble.

In sum, the room was immaculate.

Draco strode to the fireplace, taking a substantial amount of Floo powder in his hand from a bowl on the mantle and stepped inside. "Malfoy Manor."

He was whisked away in the customary emerald flames and he gracefully strolled out of yet another grand fireplace. Draco stared blankly ahead at the foyer of his former home. There was a staircase on either side. A hall to his left would lead to the lanai, various rooms along the way. Upstairs would yield more rooms –bedrooms, parlor rooms, studies, lounges… Every time Draco came back to what was once his Manor, he expected memories to flood to the forefront of his mind. Memories of him, a small lad, running up and down the halls. Images of him, as an older boy, ordering the family's old house elf around. Visions of…some not-so-pleasant things as he continued to age. Despite everything that had happened within Malfoy Manor, both good and bad, none of those memories resurfaced without a strong, conscious effort on his part. His home was, as he'd once alluded to, not his anymore.

Draco put on his best subservient face as he headed straight. There was a door that had never been there during his childhood and it was there that he paused. He knocked and waited. Not more than second later he heard a hiss tell him to enter. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and walked through.

Voldemort sat behind a desk smaller than the one Draco had left behind. It looked old and worn, and he had to marvel at the oddity of it all. For him to be living so lavishly and yet the Dark Lord to be living so…commonly. That wasn't to say that his old home was common, certainly not. He only meant that he expected his tyrannical overlord to want more.

"How may I serve you, my lord?"

Voldemort stared at him with cold, stern eyes. His non-existent lips, if Draco didn't say so himself, seemed to be on the verge of curling into a smile.

"On the contrary, Draco. It is more of a matter of how I can serve _you_."

Draco fought the rise of his eyebrows. Instead he gently tilted his head to the side. "I'm not sure that I quite understand, my lord."

Yes, it was definitely a smile, however twisted it may have looked.

"It has come to my attention that you do not like your new…recruits."

"…That is correct." Draco replied, being sure to mask his hesitance. "Would it be too forward of me to ask who told you of my feelings?"

For it could have only been because someone told him. Draco was a highly successful Occlumens and Voldemort knew that. He had made it his business to know every little detail about those who followed him. The powerful wizard that he was could still get into the blond's mind in time, yes, but not without causing the young Deatheater a significant amount of pain.

"Young Zabini came by _unannounced_ earlier today." Voldemort told him. "He expressed your concerns. After I punished him for his forwardness, of course."

"Of course,"

"If the choice had been yours, who would you have chosen?"

Draco needed no time to think. He knew that others would be joining him, Blaise, and Theo at some point the in future, and so he constantly updated his list. "The task you have given me deserves the most care. To perform it I need the best. I would have chosen Carlson and Iverson."

Voldemort chuckled. "They are hardly the best."

"No, they're not. But the very best reside in your inner circle, and I would be a fool to encroach upon it. Therefore, I would have settled for the next best."

Silence filled the room. Draco wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing, but considering that he wasn't writhing on the floor right now, he supposed that things were going well. Suddenly Voldemort rose from his seat. He slowly made his way around his desk, gliding as he went. He soon stopped directly in front him, his height outmatching Draco's by at least three inches.

"That is precisely why you were not summoned for recruitment." Voldemort explained. "You would have made a wise choice. Zabini and Nott, they were wise choices. That, however, does not mean that _they_ would make appropriate choices. And they lived up to my lack of expectation." He placed a cold, firm hand on Draco's shoulder. It made his insides crawl.

"I need a strong army, Draco. Recruitment such as this weeds out the weak."

"Parkinson and Goyle are certainly weak."

"Then I suggest you expect new members to your team soon. They will need replacing."

Draco nodded, his stomach churning at the wicked expression on Voldemort's face. As much as he didn't want Pansy or Goyle to be with him, he didn't want to see them dead either. Though, it appeared that the Dark Lord had other plans for his friends.

* * *

"Veritaserum?"

"Got it."

"Smoke Bomb potion?"

"Got it."

"Essence of Dittany?"

"I'd be damned not to have that."

Ron laughed. Hermione had worked too hard to get that dittany. For the past five days she had been risking her life breaking into various shoppes to find and take what she would need for the mission tonight. The Veritaserum she had found in the private stores of a sketchy shoppe near the edge of town. For the Smoke Bomb potion she had gone back to the inn and stocked up from their kitchen. It was lucky that the potion only required herbs that were also common in cooking. As for the dittany, that night had been a fiasco. Because it was such an elusive thing to get nowadays, (she couldn't even find it in the local hospital!) she realized that she would have to go back to the same shoppe she had gotten the Veritaserum from. She thought that she'd be able to get in and out easy since the owner didn't live above it like most other vendors did. But _of course_ that night had to have been one for inventory.

The owner stared at her, eyes narrow and focused. Her breathing had nearly stopped, and it actually did for a fraction of a second when she realized that the man had figured out who she was. There was always a chance, however small, that if someone had managed to recognize her that he or she would be on her side. In that case Hermione would modify their memories. Seeing as the man ran such a dodgy place –a task no Deatheater would put in the hands of a squib or a muggle –she instantly knew that he was a half-blood. Not to mention the wand he had just pulled on her and his mouth already forming the words to the Killing Curse.

Hermione had expertly dodged it. She had flourished her wand in the process towards the ceiling and let some of its wood collapse onto the man. He had lain trapped underneath it, his wand having rolled away. As she had hovered over him, she let the corners of her mouth turn up. It would have been an easy kill. Her easiest one yet, as a matter of fact. Even then, she had Oblivated him, stunned him, fixed the ceiling, and set him in one of the chairs in the corner of the room. She had grabbed the dittany and left the shoppe owner down there as though he had fallen asleep during his work. The last thing Hermione had needed was for Deatheaters to find his dead body. It would arouse much too much suspicion and make her mission to find her friends even more impossible.

Her late night raids weren't the only things that had occupied her time these past five days. Hermione had also played stalker to one illustrious Draco Malfoy. The evening after her "interesting" night with the blond, she made the assumption that he, Blaise, and Theo came to the inn every night. And so, under the guise of a Disillusionment Charm she kept herself close to the wall, midway between the back of the Deatheater booth and the stairs leading to the rooms. With a spell she was able to hone in on their conversation which, to her surprise, was nothing Deatheater-related. It was all shop talk about women and Quiditch (yes, it was still played in this dismal world). They did say one thing that pleased her, and it was the fact that they were all staying in Edinburgh Castle. It was that night that Hermione had made plans to go hunting for the most vital potions and ingredients she thought she would need.

After that night, she posted herself alongside different buildings earlier in the afternoons to find out where Draco and his cohorts started their patrols. The second and third days Hermione had been unsuccessful in finding him or his friends before they entered the pub. On that second night, though, they had been joined by Pansy and Goyle in the pub as well as the nights that followed. The fourth night had been laden with good fortune, and she had found Draco at the start of his patrol, with a bit of dismay, no more than three buildings from where she had been staying. A Silencing Charm on her feet kept her footsteps quiet, and she maintained a safe distance as she watched him. To be honest, what she saw of him had been…confusing.

Draco the Deatheater had sounded a lot more frightening than seeing him at work. He asked for people's identification in the nicest way a Deatheater could. He didn't taunt anyone he passed. He didn't hit on any of the pretty women who were practically begging for it. He was just…doing what he had to do and moving on. That couldn't be said for his counterparts, however. On the fifth night she found Blaise and Goyle first. She listened in on their conversations and heard Goyle whining about there being nothing fun to do in Edinburgh. Blaise had countered him, saying that there was plenty. He had then proceeded to cast the Cruciatus Curse on an unsuspecting homeless man and both Deatheaters laughed. It had been one of the hardest things for Hermione to watch, especially because she could do nothing about it without giving herself away.

But now on night number six, Hermione was going straight to the source. It would be dangerous, how she'd intended on getting to Edinburgh Castle, but it was a risk that she was willing to take.

* * *

"You're drifting away again, Draco."

"I'm fine." Draco answered Pansy roughly. He tossed back his Dragon Fire shot and felt the heat in his chest. He wished desperately that Pansy would lose her focus on him and instead join in whatever the hell Blaise, Theo, and Goyle were going on about. It would leave him to his thoughts and just how he would deal with the situation that had been brewing over the past week.

Draco didn't get to be one of Voldemort's "favorites" on sheer luck. He had to have skills. He had to have been able to prove himself somehow. Aside from Occlumency, Draco was also painfully aware of the things around him. Concerning people, it had to do with their anxious tendencies, overall body language, and the ability to pick out a lie. Concerning his environment, he could always tell when something was wrong or just felt…off. Over the past few days, things around him had certainly felt _off_.

Draco was being followed. Over the past few days, from the moment he and his friends entered the pub, and even one night when he was out patrolling, he felt as though someone's eyes were on him. He could have easily remedied this feeling, of course, with a simple spell to out any concealed human beings. But, another characteristic of his, and perhaps maybe a fault, was that he was ever curious. Who in their right mind would be ballsy enough to follow a Deatheater? That person, that brave, yet foolish person, needed to be put to the test. And so, Draco allowed it. He endured the rising of the hairs on his neck, the rise in goosebumps on his arms. He even entertained the occasional pleasant smell of something a bit fruity. The faint, faded smell of a feminine soap, perhaps?

It was as he thought this that Draco couldn't help but let his mind roam to the lovely "Miss James" whom he had told to leave Edinburgh nearly a week ago. He had had no doubts that she was a resistance member. It appeared now that Theo was right. She _did_ have a death wish. Draco only hoped that he wouldn't have to be the one to grant it.

" _Draco!_ " Pansy hissed at him. He brought his attention to her and was surprised to find her standing. Everyone was. It appeared that they were ready to leave and yet he was the only one still rooted to his seat.

"You alright there, mate?" Blaise asked him.

"Fine." Draco replied as he stood. "Let's get going."

Theo and Goyle led the way while Blaise walked by Pansy's side, giving her an award-winning smile and letting a hand graze the lower portion of her back. Draco kept in his scoff. It was a guarantee that they'd end up in bed the moment they returned to the castle. It was only a matter of time –if they hadn't gotten a taste of each other already, that is.

* * *

Hermione, under her Disillusionment Charm, had been standing outside of the inn/pub for the past hour. All the while waiting for her cue she kept going over her inventory.

 _Veritaserum…left denims pocket._

 _Smoke Bomb potion…right denims pocket._

 _Essence of Dittany, left denims pocket with the Veritaserum._

She wished she had her cloak, but any excess clothing she had deemed potentially dangerous. The last thing that Hermione had wanted was for Draco to feel the brush of her cloak and immediately start firing off spells. Granted, some dueling would most likely be taking place tonight, but not until she had him right where she wanted him.

 _Look alive, Hermione,_ came Ron's voice. _They're coming out._

Hermione straightened her back and turned her thoughts off. Her eyes darted to the left as the door to the shady establishment opened. Blaise and Goyle came out first. Theo and Pansy came out next. Draco came out last and that's when she followed. She stuck close to him, mimicking his footsteps so as not to be overheard. Her wand was held tightly in her grasp as the gravity of the situation she was putting herself in came to light. Things could go wrong. Things could go _horribly_ wrong and leave her up against five Deatheaters at once. Goyle and Pansy she wasn't worried about. It was the other three who gave her pause; but no matter what, this plan was going to be followed through.

No matter the outcome.

The group of Deatheaters stopped in the middle of the street, and Hermione knew that they were preparing to disapparate. She was standing directly behind Draco now –close enough to see the narrowing of his eyes and the clenching of his jaw. Parkinson was staring at him oddly, asking if he was alright. He snapped at her, saying that if anyone asked him how he was one more time he'd curse them. That quieted the group quickly, and just before they disapparated Hermione boldly latched onto Draco's wrist and was pulled along right with them.

* * *

Draco felt a hand grab hold of his wrist as he disapparated to the hilly lands that surrounded Edinburgh Castle. He immediately began to move his free hand to his wand when he felt the hard poke of another wand at the base of his neck.

"Do anything stupid and you die." A feminine voice threatened in his ear. Draco relaxed. "Get rid of them."

He watched as his friends began to go to the hidden entrance that would lead to the castle. Luckily for his captor –or perhaps not –it was the entrance that would lead him the furthest away from his suite.

"I'm going to the west entrance." He announced. "Then I'm heading to bed. I'll see the four of you in the morning."

Just as the previous time when he disapparated, Draco felt a hand grab him. He and his mysterious abductor were on the other side of the castle now, far from the sight of anyone, and he, quite frankly, had had enough.

Before the person's hand could let go, Draco grabbed it with his right and yanked her closer. A gasp escaped her and he judged where her legs would be and kicked at them – _hard_. He felt her body fall to the ground and he withdrew his wand quickly and aimed it towards the ground just before him.

"Finite Incantatem!"

The Disillusionment Charm immediately lifted and he spied the young woman who was sprawled on the grassy plane. No, Draco hadn't expected to see the features of Miss Clarissa James. He had known it was only a disguise, but to see the face of _Hermione Granger_ staring back up at him, there were no words to describe it. She was supposed to be dead. Almost _two full_ _years_ dead. He knew because he was there when she'd been declared so by his fellow Deatheaters. That fight… That fight had been legendary. He had seen what she'd gone through and for her to be alive, it was… It was just…

"Gah!" Draco exclaimed as he fell back. While he became lost in his thoughts, Hermione had gathered her wits and swung her leg behind his. She still held her wand tight, and she aimed it at his chest.

"Stupefy!"

Draco rolled out of the way before the red streak of light could strike him and swirled his wand once to keep the debris from covering him. He turned his wand on her, but she deflected his spell while simultaneously trying to stun him again. He brought up his own shield to keep the spell from him, all the while being impressed and equally annoyed with her. And yet, Draco held back. Every spell, curse, and hex that he would have normally shot he refrained, because every one of them would have severely hurt her, if not outright killed her.

This needed to end quickly.

Ropes sprung out of Draco's wand and jetted out to latch onto Hermione's body. She reacted at lightning speed, shouting "Diffindo!" and cutting through the ropes before they could each her.

"Expelliarmus!" She called next, and Draco felt his wand slip out of his hand and into hers. Hermione smiled, both wands in her hand as she pointed them at him. Draco snarled. Two sets of Stunning Spells were racing towards him, and she was relishing in the fact that he would be a crumpled heap on the ground in a matter of moments.

Under normal circumstances, yes, he would be. Instead, Draco raised his right hand and a Shield Charm erupted out of it, Hermione's spells fizzling once it hit it. She stared wide-eyed and watched as he moved his hand yet again, and soon both wands were dropping from her as her body was thrown up and back through the air.

She collided with a nearby hill, dropping to the ground fast and hard onto her feet. She let out a grunt of pain, but didn't move. Draco doubted that she could. He brushed bits of dirt and grass from off of him before he casually strolled over, pausing for a moment to gather both his and her wands that she had dropped. When he finally made it to Hermione, she stared up at him with pure hate in her eyes. He stared back. More specifically he stared into her deep, dark brown eyes and thought of how familiar they looked although he hadn't seen them in years.

"You're lucky you know wandless magic." She spat at hm. Draco tilted his head to the side and then chuckled.

"I suppose that makes you _un_ lucky then."

Draco once again conjured ropes and this time they enveloped her the way that they were supposed to. Despite being trapped in the clutches of a Deatheater, she didn't look scared. In fact she looked even more furious.

 _Interesting…_

With both wands on the inside of his cloak, Draco drew closer still and knelt down on one knee. He reached out and grabbed Hermione's face with a clutch of her chin. She grunted as he gently twisted her face left and then right as he inspected it.

"You look good for a dead woman."

"Bite me."

Draco smirked and let her face go. "Tell me, Granger. What exactly were you planning to do with me had you succeeded?"

Hermione huffed. "I haven't failed yet."

"This is you winning?" He cocked a brow, then laughed. "If that's the case then winning looks very good on you."

It was easy to envision steam coming out of the witch's ears at his comments. Draco rose to his feet and continued to stare at the woman before him. This was a predicament he couldn't have fathomed the moment he had realized someone unknown had side-apparated along with him. He had had every intention on exposing his tag-along in the middle of the Deatheater group, and said person would have been killed on the spot. He wouldn't have had any enjoyment from it, of course, but anyone who would so willingly dive into a Deatheater cesspool deserved to die for their stupidity.

But Granger wasn't stupid, was she? She'd had a plan. She knew exactly what to say and how to maneuver to get him alone. She'd been following him for days. Watching him. _Studying him_. Draco was faced with a dilemma now and he wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Everyone thought that the witch was dead. To not expose her would have been a great betrayal, but then again so was everything else he did to tip the scales away from Voldemort. However, letting her go could prove dangerous. As it stood, she seemed very determined to come after him. Who was to say that she would stop after he'd let her go?

Draco sighed. He looked up at Hermione once more, her eyes still flaring with fury, and he snapped his fingers. The ropes were gone and the anger in her eyes were replaced with confusion.

"Leave." He ordered. "But be warned. Come after me again and I _will_ expose you."

Hermione continued to sit there on the grass, staring at him as though he'd lost his marbles. "You're not going to kill me?"

Her words struck a very reminiscent cord with him, but Draco shook them off. "People already think you're dead. For me to kill you would be redundant. If my assumptions are correct, you'll continue to play the role without my help."

The pair stared at each other for countless seconds. Draco suddenly turned to leave when Hermione abruptly called him back.

"You still have my wand."

"I know."

"I want it back."

"No."

Hermione was angry again and she leapt up from the ground faster than Draco could blink. Surprisingly though, she tumbled down just as quickly while letting out a screech. She brought her hands to her right foot and cringed terribly when she touched it.

"Damn it." She tearlessly cried. Draco frowned. It seemed that toss back into the hill had done more damage than he had anticipated. It would be hard to tell how badly her ankle was hurt with the hills growing darker by the second, and he'd be damned to give her her wand to steady a light to see by.

Draco made a split-second decision that he just _knew_ he would regret.

"What are you doing?!" Hermione shouted. Draco silenced her with a bit more wandless magic and picked up the wriggling witch, once again bound in ropes, and slung her over his shoulder.

Together they entered the secret passage that would lead them inside of Edinburgh Castle.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Now things get a bit more interesting! I'd love to hear your thoughts on what may or may not happen next. It's always awesome to see if some of you hit the nail on the head. Thanks SO MUCH for all the great reviews, favs, and follows so far. I'm currently working on chapter 19 right now, so you already know this is going to be a long one :)

Until next time!

-WP


	5. Sanctuary

Hermione had a clear view of the ground as Draco walked across the hilly lands and through a concealed tunnel. She was thrashing wildly and screaming her lungs out, but she was bound tightly and the Silencing Charm had quieted her.

This was _not_ how this was supposed to go. She was supposed to have captured him, taken him back to her apartment, interrogated him, and then killed him. Even if things didn't go according to plan and he ended up killing her, she would have made sure that he went down with her. But now? _Now?_ Now she had a possibly broken ankle, she had been exposed, and Draco was kidnapping her.

 _Well, this was a bit unexpected._ Ron's voice popped into her head. Hermione's eyes went wide and she was cursing up a storm in silence.

 _Some friend you're being to me!_ _Where the hell-?_

 _This could be good for you._

 _Good for me? I don't know where he's taking me!_

 _To the other Deatheaters, obviously._

 _And this is_ _ **good**_ _for me?!_

 _Yes. Think of what you could do from the inside._

 _What makes you think he won't kill me once we're there?_

 _If he hasn't killed you already, I think you're safe._

 _I don't like this, Ron._

 _Neither do I, but you have to take advantage of this while you can. I'll help you get out when the opportunity presents itself._

 _You'd better._

Her and Ron's conversation took up the rest of the time it took to get through the tunnel. Once they were out of it, she felt Draco pause. After he started moving again Hermione darted her eyes around to memorize the surroundings as best she could. She mentally recorded every time he went left or right, took note of every memorable sculpture or painting, and even noticed when the floor changed carpet colors. Soon they stopped walking. Instead of seeing the floor, she was seeing, admittedly, a beautiful bedroom.

Ceiling-to-floor windows lined the wall behind a plush, four-poster king-sized bed. The bed was unsurprisingly adorned with a green bedspread with an intricate gold design and plump gold pillows. A night table was on either side with lovely green lamps. Along the left wall was a bookshelf built into it. The right wall held two dressers and a large armoire. Hermione finally realized that she was sitting on a long chaise near the door and that she had been released from her ropes.

"Lay down

Hermione looked up at Draco to find that he had taken off his cloak. Not only that, he had also drawn the curtains across the windows. He was standing in front of her with his wand in hand. Her own she could spy jetting out of his cloak pocket on his bed.

"Lay down, I said."

Hermione snapped her eyes to him and narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

Draco pointed his wand to her foot. "Your ankle needs tending to. So, lay down."

She didn't move. This was the inn all over again. What exactly was Draco playing at? What kind of Deatheater _was_ he?

"Either you lay down yourself or I make you, Granger." Draco growled at her. Hermione scowled, but didn't lay down all the way. She eased back on the chaise so that she could stretch her legs out and watched as Draco got down on his knees.

"It was the right one?"

Hermione nodded.

Draco was careful in easing off her shoe with a gentleness that she couldn't have imagined he'd had. "This is going to hurt a little, alright?"

"Alright,"

Draco used his hands to press on various parts of her foot, causing Hermione to cry out in pain every time he did. Once he was finished, he used his wand to wrap her ankle in bandages. After that he added a Cooling Spell that felt intensely like ice.

"It's not broken, just sprained." He told her. "The spell will help keep the swelling down, but still, there'll be no walking for you."

Hermione's panic kicked in. "No walking?"

Draco looked at her briefly before slipping off her other shoe and placing it with the other at the side of the chaise. "Unless you want to damage it further, then no, no walking. Give it three days. After that you can test it out and see how it feels."

"No," Hermione said adamantly. "I am _not_ staying in a place full of Deatheaters. I'd rather die first."

"Be careful what you wish for."

She watched him as he moved away from her and over to his bed. He took one of its pillows and soon returned to put it under her ankle. She huffed. "I don't need your help to recuperate, Malfoy. I don't even know why you're giving it. All I need is my wand and I'll be just fine on my own."

It was Draco's turn to huff. He had returned to his bed again with yet another pillow, this time putting it behind her back which she reluctantly sunk into. "Over my dead body. You'll get it back when you're _far_ from here."

Hermione smirked and he cocked his brow at how surprisingly it suit her. "Afraid to let me have a wand, are you?"

"Don't flatter yourself." Draco sneered. "I'm not afraid of you. Never will be. However, I can't forget the fact that you threatened to kill me not too long ago. For me to give you a wand would be foolish."

Hermione's smirk vanished. Draco continued to stand there, staring at her, staring at her eyes, and regarding the way that she looked at him. He took a deep breath, raised his wand, and pointed at her hands.

"Hey!" She shouted as she fussed at her bound wrists. "What are you doing?"

"Relax."

" _Relax?_ " Hermione repeated with venom in her voice. "You just bound me!"

"Keep up that whining of yours and I'll bound more of you." Draco threatened. Hermione kept quiet then. He pocketed his wand after that and drew closer to her. "I only did it to keep you from clawing at me."

Hermione stared at him curiously. "Why would I do that?"

"For what I'm about to do."

Hermione's sense of panic returned as Draco sat beside her. Bound hands or not, she could still "claw at him." It would be awkward and perhaps a bit messy, but she would sure get a nail or two slashed across his face if she needed to. She prepared herself to do just that, but was completely unprepared for when Draco kissed her. His lips were soft just as before, and once again it felt like their mouths were meant to be together. His kiss was a work of clear expertise, and he nibbled on her bottom lip just once to open her mouth wide enough to slip his tongue inside. She met it, once again, without much prodding and slid it against his. His hand had gravitated to the back of her neck, and with that action the kiss had unbelievably gotten deeper than it already was.

Soon it was over just as quickly as it began, and Hermione felt ashamed for wishing that it had continued.

"You _are_ the girl from the inn." Draco said as he pulled away and released her hands from its bound state. "You should've left Edinburgh like I told you to."

"I couldn't."

"Why? There's absolutely nothing for you here but a bunch of Deatheaters." He then tilted his head slightly and stared at her curiously. "Or is there?"

Hermione didn't look at him. Draco huffed and nodded then.

"I'll take your silence as a yes."

She squirmed where she sat. She should've said no. Perhaps he and the other Deatheaters would move on then if they thought that there were no resistance members here. But then again, knowing him and how much he knew about her, he wouldn't leave. If she was there, then there had to be a good reason. She was basically his salvation in a stagnate race.

"That night," Draco broke the air. "When you had your wand in your hand, you were really going to do it, weren't you? You were going to try to kill me."

"I was."

"And today? That was more than just a threat, wasn't it?"

"I would have killed you if you hadn't complied, yes."

"Huh…I never pegged you to be a murderer. Bound and gag someone, sure. But murder? That's a bit much for you."

Hermione's eyes snapped to his immediately. His words sent a cold shiver down her spine and it made her feel sick on top of it. Her voice quivered when she spoke next –the intensity of her sudden rage unmistakable.

"I'm not a murderer. _You are._ "

Draco's eyes narrowed. "I kill people, yes. But I don't doubt that you've killed people also."

She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin proudly. "I-"

"Save it." He cut her off, his anger seeming to be just as intense as hers. "I know what you're going to say. All of you resistance members are the same. You justify your actions because you're sitting on the _good side_. You're ridding the world of Deatheaters and Snatchers alike. You're doing the world a favor. But _excuse me_ for not seeing it that way. I didn't know that the way you killed was different from mine. _Excuse me_ for thinking that dead meant dead, no matter how someone made it to the other side of the veil. _Excuse_ _me_ , Granger, for informing _you_ , that it doesn't matter who's at the end of your wand. The Killing Curse has left your lips? Well, that makes you a murderer just like me."

Hermione felt heat rise to her cheeks. How dare he? How dare he think that they were one and the same? Yes, she's killed, but Draco was the wrong one because the way he killed was _much_ different than hers. She killed to survive. He killed just because. _That_ made them different. She was good and he was evil. It was as simple as that.

"I'm going to take a shower, then I'm going to bed." Draco announced. "But first a few ground rules: stay _off_ of that ankle. Nothing in this room is long enough for me to transfigure into a crutch for you, nor am I in the mood to find such a thing, so you'll have to stay put. Secondly, as stubborn as you are you'll probably ignore that first rule, so if you do, _touch nothing_. Thirdly," he paused and snapped his fingers towards her wand still jetting out of his cloak pocket. It disappeared from sight. "Don't bother trying to find your wand because you won't. Don't even think about trying to steal mine. Lastly, and I cannot stress this enough, unless I'm helping you to escape this place, you _never_ leave this room."

Hermione felt herself sneer. "Merlin, I sure hope there's never a fire."

Draco's eyes narrowed to slits. " _Focus, Granger_. Deatheaters _live_ here. Other Deatheaters filter in and out of here every day and at any time of day or night. If you care nothing for your life then please, by all means, step one foot out of this room when the opportunity arises. But if you do, keep your arse here."

Draco dismissed himself then and headed straight to his private bathroom. Hermione, having just been restricted by him to the chaise, stared at the door he had just slammed behind him. Her gaze then moved from it to her wrapped and propped up ankle. She scowled at it, took another glance at the door, and then eased her foot off of the pillow and down to the floor. She took a deep breath, her hands clutching either side of the chaise and she braced herself. Hermione stood on her feet, cried out in pain and then fell back onto the chaise. She eyed the bathroom door, waiting for Draco to come barging out of it at the sound of her shout, but he didn't. The shower was running and so she assumed that it had drowned her out.

Three days.

She was supposed to stay off of her ankle for three days.

And she was supposed to recuperate in this…Deatheater den.

This was going to be hell.

* * *

Draco wasn't washing his hair. He wasn't lathering up. He wasn't doing anything but standing stark naked in the shower as hot water trickled over his body. He just couldn't help thinking about what he was doing. He'd already done one stupid thing with the hope of a positive outcome and _that_ was blowing up in his face day by day. And now this? Three days wasn't a very long time in retrospect, he knew, but it certainly felt like a decade or more when the threat of danger was looming in every corner. Every moment Hermione was around Deatheaters was one second closer to death if the wrong move was made.

Why, _why_ for the love of Merlin was he doing this? He was already doing his good deed to society –however arse-backwards it may seem to people if they knew. But to be taking this on? To be taking _Granger_ on? And then he remembered the vow to help the inn girl he'd made just last week, although that was only part of the puzzle. Deep down he knew he would've helped Granger anyway. He only hoped that these three days flew by and that her ankle healed within that time or less.

After spending an hour and then some in the shower (finally doing what you're _supposed_ to do in a shower in the last half an hour), Draco grabbed his towel from a nearby hook, wrapped it around his lower half and stepped out. His eyes had been on the ground when he did so, but when he looked up he was instantly startled when he realized that he wasn't alone.

"Damn it, Giselle! You scared the bleeding hell out of me!"

Giselle gave her signature girlish giggle as she leaned against the bathroom wall. "You're jumpy tonight."

"Of course I'm bloody jumpy! You popped the hell out of nowhere!"

"And your language is atrocious. What's wrong?"

Draco's eyes instinctively jetted towards the door where, on the other side of it, the source of his inner discontent lay. He scoffed. "Nothing."

Giselle softly smiled. "Lies are no good with me, sweetheart."

 _No, of course not. You're my damn bloody subconscious haunting me in the form of the dead girl I was once liked and giving my mental state one hell of a constant kick in the arse._

Draco paused. Huh. His language really was off the charts tonight. He groaned and ran his hands through his wet hair. "I hate making promises. Once you make them you can't break them."

"Oh no, you can break them. You just happen to be someone who always keeps his."

"Not all of them." He mumbled regretfully, making sure not to be making eye contact with Giselle as he said so. It still didn't keep her out of his periphery and he hated the thoughtful look she was giving him.

"What promise are you regretting?"

"Helping that inn girl."

Giselle's eyes lit up. "She's here?" She went to the bathroom door and opened it so she could take a peek. Draco cringed as she did so. He knew that she wasn't really there and that the door really wasn't open, but it looked so real. He stood there just waiting for Hermione to spot the brown eyes staring at her and demand who they belonged to.

"She's pretty." Giselle smiled as she closed the door. "May I ask why you brought her here? If you're supposed to be helping her, bringing her to a place full of Deatheaters isn't really a good idea."

"Her ankle is sprained. I couldn't leave her where she was or else she'd surely be caught."

"Ah. She had no wand then to fend for herself."

Draco fidgeted uneasily where he stood. "She did."

Giselle arched her beautiful brow. "And you took her in anyway?"

"It's complicated."

"Hmm, must be. Besides, she seems pretty capable of handling herself. She was hobbling around your room alright."

Draco snapped his eyes to her quickly. " _She was what?_ "

He didn't wait for Giselle to explain. Draco simply ran straight through her and flung the door open to find Hermione, indeed, awkwardly crossing his bedroom on one leg while flailing her arms out for balance.

"Granger, just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Her frantic face met his just as there was a pounding on his bedroom door. Draco's panic soon matched hers and he quickly stormed over, picked Hermione up in his arms and dashed to his closet. He stashed her inside behind a line of cloaks and various suits and hastily shut the door. The pounding continued and Draco removed the charms that automatically set themselves in place whenever he wasn't in the room or it was past midnight. Once the door was opened he was met with Pansy's face. He snarled.

Pansy, however, smiled as her eyes settled on his bare, wet chest. "I see now why you didn't hear me knocking."

"You call that knocking?" Draco snapped at her. "You damn near broke the bloody door down! What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be busy fumbling around with Blaise's knickers or something?"

Pansy frowned. "Your language is terrible tonight."

Draco gritted his teeth. "What. Do you. Want?"

"Blaise's liquor consumption caught up to him and I'm not in the mood for a messy shag."

Draco scoffed. "Ask Theo."

"I would if he wasn't otherwise preoccupied."

"Preoccupied? Who else is here?"

"Daphne and Astoria," Pansy said with a smirk. "And don't go getting your wand in a knot. They're not recruits, they're just visiting."

Visiting… If Draco had known they were to be coming over Theo wouldn't be having the luxury of bedding _both_ Greengrass sisters right now. _Damn Granger…_

"Are you letting me in or not?"

Draco thought about the resistance member sitting in his closet. His lips were soon saying, "No," before he could properly think it and he shut the door in Pansy's face. It wasn't just the fact that he didn't want her (or any Deatheater for that matter) to be anywhere near Hermione. He simply wasn't the type of person to willingly shag someone when he knew there was another person who could easily see and/or listen in to what was happening. It was disgusting just thinking about it.

With a sigh he made sure his towel was secure and headed back to his closet where Hermione was still hiding. He looked down at her, amused by the look she was giving him. She looked none-too-pleased.

"Do you all _really_ just so casually sleep with each other like that?"

Draco smirked. "We get bored."

Hermione's face was even more scrunched up than before and Draco laughed as he pulled her out of the closet, making sure to be careful around her ankle. She was in his arms again and he laid her back down on the chaise. Once she was properly set up he went back to his closet where he dried himself off behind the large doors so Hermione couldn't see. He used his wand to summon nightwear from his dresser and once he was dressed, he shut up the closet properly and headed straight for the door.

"Where are you going?"

Draco stopped just as he was about to open the door and looked at her. "You heard Pansy. She's not in the mood for a messy shag."

He winked at her then, and soon he was gone.

* * *

 **Author's note:** 3,300 words and I think the shortest chapter I've written for this story (twenty-one of them down by the way!). Somewhat of a filler, but I'm sure you're all questioning Draco's motives for being so caring :). Perhaps for the shortness I'll post again on Thursday…maybe ;)

Thanks so much for reading, and please do feel free to leave a review! They really do help spur a writer on!

Until next time!

-WP


	6. Search, Bath, & Breakfast

"I hate to admit this, but the ferret's living in a pretty nice place."

Hermione, who had been thinking about ways to safely maneuver Draco's bedroom without hurting her ankle further, looked up to the new presence in the room. Ron was standing in the middle of it, hands in his pockets and looking around. Hermione huffed since she had already (regrettably) admitted this to herself.

"Where'd he go?"

Hermione scowled. "Concerned now, are we? Where was that bout of worry when Malfoy was kidnapping me?!"

Ron tilted his head slightly and smiled. "Are you dead?" He laughed then when he saw how red in the face she became as she stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't be mad. I'm just trying to put things in perspective for you. You're here, taken care of, and in the _best_ position to find out any and everything you can on the Deatheaters. So, are you going to answer my question now?"

"…He's off shagging."

"So he's not in the castle then."

"Oh no, he's still here." Hermione said with a grimace, just knowing that somewhere in the castle, maybe near, maybe far, there were several couples banging the hell out of each other. "I just don't know where he is –or any of the other Deatheaters for that matter."

"Well, I'd guess we'd better make this quick." Ron said with a clap of his hands. Hermione watched him then as he began wandering around the bedroom. He headed to the bed first, flipping over pillows, feeling inside the pillow cases. He proceeded then to unravel the well-made bed which Hermione thought, although thorough, highly unnecessary. He got down to his knees and began feeling underneath it.

"Ow!"

Hermione tensed. "What? What is it?"

"Malfoy's definitely one dangerous bloke." He replied as he raised not one, but two knives from under the mattress. One was shorter than the other, but both could kill fairly easily.

"Were they both on the same side of the bed?" Hermione asked. Ron nodded. "Put one on the other side."

"You got it."

Ron did as she asked after checking to see if anything else was under there as well. Nothing was. Hermione assumed then that the side with the knives was where Draco slept. Ron began rummaging through the night tables, but didn't find anything useful there but ink, quills, parchment and a couple photo albums. The closet held nothing but clothes. The dressers were the same, although Ron did smile triumphantly when he found a journal. He tossed it to Hermione.

"This could prove interesting." She grinned as her hand grazed the expensive leather. While Ron proceeded to check out the bookshelf for anything good, Hermione began to peruse the journal. She headed straight for the most recent entry and tried to read it, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't do it. It wasn't because it was written in code. If it had she would've spent the entire night trying to crack it and succeeded. The words were there. They were in the plainest English one could come up with, but they were just _unreadable._ It appeared that Draco had somehow managed to manipulate the Confundus Charm and placed it on the journal.

Hermione groaned and chucked the journal. It hit her ankle in the process of flipping over the end of the chaise and she cried out in pain when it did.

"What, nothing good?" Ron asked as he sauntered over and picked up the journal.

"Put it back. There's a Confundus Charm on it."

Ron cocked a brow. "Seriously? Well, I'll be damned. Do you think you could break it if you had a wand?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. I've never come across a Confundus Charm on an object before." She then smiled. "But I'd sure try. You didn't happen to find it while you were scurrying about, did you? Not even a spare?"

"Sorry, not a one. But Malfoy's got to sleep in here sometime, doesn't he? Steal his when you get the chance."

"Oh I'm counting on it." Hermione said despite Draco's clear warning not to try.

"Good. Now let's go."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Go?"

"Yeah. More than just this room needs to be searched and we've got to do it now before Malfoy comes back."

Hermione glanced down at her ankle before turning back to her eager friend. "Aside from the fact that I don't have my wand, my ankle is sprained, remember? I can't exactly go traipsing around as I would like. I'd be on my way out of here if I could."

"Don't worry, you've got me to help." Ron said and he immediately walked over and supported her with an arm over him and he taking most of her weight. Hermione, to say the least, was shocked. He'd touched her. He'd _actually_ touched her. Two years. Two years of near caresses and wishes that it could be more and, here he was, carrying her.

"Ron, this isn't practical." She whined, but he shushed her.

"We might not have another chance. We're going."

Hermione didn't have time to protest before Ron was prying at the door. To his surprise, however, the door wouldn't budge.

"What the hell? Did Malfoy lock this?"

"I didn't see him do it." Hermione frowned as she too began prodding at the door. "To be honest I'd been surprised that he hadn't when he left, but I guess he did. He knows wandless magic so maybe he did it without me realizing. Probably didn't trust me to actually stay put." She scowled, soon sighing afterwards when she suddenly realized just how trapped she really was.

"At least tonight wasn't a total loss." Ron said although he was frowning too. He helped Hermione back onto the chaise and readjusted her pillows. "There's still the journal."

"That I can't read."

"Not until you get that wand."

"I guess that's tomorrow night's adventure, huh?" Hermione grinned at him. Ron nodded.

"That's right. And I'll be right here with you through it all."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

* * *

Pansy could give a good shag (Draco couldn't deny that), but it was the mornings after that he dreaded most of all. She cuddled. He could always count on having her head laying on his chest, her arms hugging him, legs wrapped around one of his, and a happy hum in her throat as she breathed. He hated it. At least Daphne and Astoria knew better than to trap him in bed like this.

Draco sighed and glanced at the charmed clock on Pansy's night table. It was just after six a.m. That gave him plenty of time to take a shower and get ready for the day before breakfast, not to mention to check on his "house guest." Now all he had to do was get out of this mangled mess of arms and legs.

He looked down at her, scowled, and used his hands to try to pry hers off of him. As always, it proved difficult, and so he resorted to a wandless Stinging Jinx on her arm which made Pansy recoil in her sleep. That made it easier to get her upper half off of him and slide her over to the other side of the bed. With a bit of a shimmy he got his leg from out from under hers and he was finally free. A quick summoning charm got all of his clothes to him which, he remarked with a chuckle, had been dispersed all over the room. He looked back at Pansy once before getting dressed and then left her bedroom to take the journey back to his suite and then to his bedroom.

Quite frankly, Draco wasn't sure what he would find when he got back there. He knew Hermione, and he knew her well. For her to listen to him, _especially_ when he wasn't there, was a complete impossibility. He was sure that his room had been searched, but there was nothing for her to find. Except for his knives. A quick wave of concern washed over him at that, and so he kept his wand raised after undoing the charms on his door and hurried inside.

Draco was ready to disarm his knife from her the moment he entered the room. Hermione, however, wasn't hiding, ready to strike. Instead she was still on the chaise and sleeping comfortably. He stared at her with a slightly tilted head, but he didn't let his guard down. He closed the door with his foot. Once the room was sealed he walked over to the chaise with his wand still raised. For all he knew she could be faking, one of his knives in her hand or hiding in the cushion so she could easily reach it and stab him.

"Petrificus Totalus,"

Hermione's sleeping form froze immediately. Draco set his wand aside and began to search her. She held nothing in her hands. Neither knife was between or under the chaise's cushions, nor were they behind the pillows where her back or ankle rested. He also checked under the chaise, but that too was bare. Feeling satisfied, he rose to his feet and took the spell off of her. He didn't want to waste any more time and so he headed straight into the bathroom to wash off any evidence of his shagging. It had happened. It was over and done with. There was no need to parade around that look of having been pleasured.

His shower was over by six-forty-five and successfully completed without another surprise visit by Giselle. Although, that didn't stop him from proceeding out of the bathroom cautiously in case she suddenly appeared. The last thing he needed was for Hermione to wake up to his cry of surprise at a figment of his broken mind.

By seven he was fully dressed which left him with a full hour until breakfast would be ready. That gave him just enough time to check off the next item on his list. He took a deep breath, his wand in his back pocket should Hermione prove too argumentative to deal with first thing in the morning and he gently shook her awake.

"Granger,"

Despite having been trapped in a Deatheater's bedroom, sleeping in a place full of them, and resting on a chaise rather than a bed, Hermione was having an amazing sleep. At least she _was_. Someone was shaking her awake and it could've been no one other than Draco. She woke up with a scowl and looked at him with a tremendous amount of disdain.

"Morning, _precious_ ," He drawled. "Let's go. I don't have much time to be here today, so let's get your shower over and done with."

Hermione nearly gave herself whiplash at how fast she turned to look at him. " _My what?_ "

"Show- _er_ ," Draco said again. "I assume that you'd like to take one."

"Well...well, yes, but-"

"Then let's get this over with. I have to leave here within the next hour and won't be back until late. I damn sure won't be in the mood to do this by then, so come on."

Draco reached out his arms to pick her up like he'd done twice before, but Hermione shrank away from him. "Why are you doing this?"

He stilled his movements. "The shower?"

" _Any_ of this?"

Draco sighed. "That's an explanation for another time, Granger. But as for the shower, that's easy. You're not a prisoner here. You're squatting. Now stop wasting time. If you want to nitpick at my actions do it when I'm not on the clock."

Before Hermione could protest an arm was under her legs and the other was supporting her back. Yet again she was in his arms, but this time being carried into the bathroom. He gently set her down on the toilet seat and shut the door. She watched him as he bent down to unwrap the bandages from her ankle, then he attended to the tub and turned on the water. This wouldn't actually be a shower since she couldn't stand on her feet, and so she listened as the water began to fill up the tub.

"You can't get clean with clothes on, you know." He said without looking at her. Hermione immediately began to feel uncomfortable. What was he planning on doing? Staying in the room while she bathed?

"I'll change when you leave."

Draco finally turned to her and crossed his arms. "And just how exactly do you plan on getting into the tub?"

Hermione huffed. "I managed to get around your room pretty okay last night."

He nodded. "Sure. And that wild hand waving you were doing was just the icing on the cake. You try moving around like that in here and you're bound to slip, fall, and crack your skull open on the side of the tub, sink, or toilet. _Strip_."

" _Malfoy_ -"

"I won't look."

Draco ended his words by facing the sink, but not before turning off the water. Hermione sat motionless on the toilet seat for countless seconds before losing a bit of dignity by slowly taking her shirt off. She frowned at the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. In fact, she'd been bra-less for about two months now seeing as her bag had been stolen from her around that time. The bra she could do without, but underwear she could not. She had lifted a couple from a few shoppes along the way and would always wash them after use. Of course, she didn't have a spare one to put on after her bath since she'd had no intentions of being captured on this little expedition. As she wriggled on the toilet seat to ease her pants off without agitating her ankle, she absolutely dreaded the thought of having to go commando until she could reach her apartment again. Unless of course Draco would "be so kind" as to clean them for her.

Hermione shivered at the notion of it.

Just as she was slipping her denims pass her thighs, Hermione remembered with dismay that she still had three small potion bottles in her pockets.

They all fell out.

"Oh no!"

"What? What's wrong?"

Draco whirled around just in time to see potions falling onto the ground. Two fell with a tiny clatter and rolled away. The third smashed and soon the entire bathroom was engulfed in smoke and both he and Hermione were coughing endlessly. Draco cleared it away with a wave of his wand and stared at the witch despite his promise not to look.

"Malfoy!" She screamed as she hastily hiked back up her pants with one hand and covered her breasts with the other.

He ignored her. In fact, despite how it looked, he hadn't been looking at her body. Just her face. Now he wasn't looking at that and instead walked over to where one of the potions had rolled off to.

"That had obviously been a Smoke Bomb potion." Draco said casually as he bent down near the edge of the tub and picked up one of the two bottles that hadn't broken. "Let's see what we have here. Essence of Dittany," he read the label. He then stepped over the shards of glass that once held the Smoke Bomb potion and picked up the other which was near the door. "Veritaserum," he read slowly. His eyes met hers as soon as he finished read it and Hermione immediately felt threatened. It wasn't quite a cold stare that he was giving her, but it definitely wasn't friendly.

"You know," he said as the potion was enveloped by his whole hand. "You never did tell me what you had planned to do with me once you'd captured me." In four strides he was standing directly in front of her, and Hermione had both arms folded over her chest now that her pants were properly on again. "Well?" Draco inquired. He was leaning over her now, his hands resting on either side on top of the body of the toilet, and Hermione could see very clearly the calm, but turbulent storm brewing in his eyes.

"I'll tell you," she said as calmly as possible. "But only if you tell me why you're helping me."

"This isn't a negotiation."

"It is now." Hermione argued. Draco looked ready to commit murder, and it probably wasn't wise to antagonize him while she was wandless and he had both his wand _and_ wandless magic on his side. "That unknown girl from the inn? Helping _her_ I get. But me? I don't understand why."

 _And you wouldn't believe me if I told you._

"You don't have to understand why, Granger." Draco said after a few seconds of their staring contest. "I just need you to heal and to get you out of here in once piece when you are. Now get undressed before I do it myself."

Draco moved away from her then and resumed his staring in the other direction after clearing away the broken glass. Hermione contemplated his words as she finally stripped herself of her denims and her underwear soon after. She called to him when she was done, but he didn't turn around. He back-peddled, reaching out for her hand which she took once he was close enough. He managed to balance her and ease her into the tub –all without looking or accidentally touching one of her more private areas. After she was in he left the bathroom, saying that he'd be back in fifteen to twenty minutes. Hermione wasted a good ten of those minutes just sitting in the water and thinking. Draco _needed_ her to heal? What did he need her to be healthy for?

* * *

"Are you finished?"

Hermione looked towards the door. She wanted nothing more than to stay in the tub where she was. She had managed to forget, even if it was for five minutes, where she was and who she was with. Now the memory of it all was right about to walk through the door whether she said it was okay or not.

"Yes,"

The door opened and Draco stepped through with a hand covering his eyes and a towel in the other. Hermione stared at him in amusement. She couldn't wait to see how he would comply with her "no looking" rule and getting her out of the tub. Before he even tried though, he turned his attention to the pile of clothes she had left behind near the toilet. A quick wave of his wand was directed at them and she couldn't help the small "o" that her mouth gave.

 _Guess I won't be going commando at all then._

"Give me your arms."

Hermione took a deep breath as she brought her arms to him and Draco blindly gripped her by her upper arms. "Let me know when you're sitting on the edge, alright?"

"Alright,"

He lifted her up and she told him when she was on the edge of the tub. "Lift your legs over it."

She did.

"Here," Draco said as he handed her the towel. Hermione took it and felt much more comfortable knowing that her breasts and nether regions were obscured. "Can I look now?"

"Yes,"

Draco opened his eyes and saw that Hermione was holding the towel over herself. He impressively hoisted her up with one arm under hers and helped her wrap the towel all the way around her. In this way he couldn't _not_ look at her, but it wasn't her bum his eyes had momentarily focused on. It was the scars. Her back was positively littered in them and he could just imagine what her front must've looked like. It almost made him shiver.

He helped her out of the bathroom while making her clothes to levitate after him. Soon she was sitting back on the chaise and her clothes were beside her. "Can you dress yourself?"

Hermione snorted. "I got undressed by myself didn't I?"

Draco scowled. "It was just a question. No need to get snippy. Let me know when you're done."

She frowned as he walked away. He went over to his dresser and took out his journal in full view of her. She imagined that if he hadn't charmed it that he would have been more cautious. But charmed or not, Hermione was quite determined to get her hands on a wand –hers _or his_ –so that she could break into it. In the meantime, she sighed at herself as she successfully dried her skin with the towel. Once that was done, she wriggled her underwear back on –wriggled, because she couldn't stand on her feet without crying out in pain. And so she shifted left and right, awkwardly lifting her pelvis up so she could get them on. The same sort of routine went on for her denims. Getting on her shirt was easiest, of course, and she signaled Draco once she was through. He had been sitting on the edge of his bed and writing in his journal while she dressed. He looked up at her once before writing in his journal some more and eventually slipping back where he had taken it from. He soon walked over with his wand in hand and dropped down to his knees.

"I'll have my house elf tend to you." Draco said as he rewrapped her ankle with bandages. "His name is Polly. He'll give you breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And although every fiber of my being is telling me not to do this, I'll let you have some command over him. Food matters only. I haven't worked this hard to keep you safe just to have you die of a food allergy."

Draco finished with her ankle quickly, making sure to also add a Cooling Charm once again to continue with the swelling that was going down nicely. "Like I said, I'll be back late. For the life you, try not to do anything stupid while I'm gone."

He left her side then without giving Hermione any time to respond, grabbed his cloak and vacated the room. After a bit of walking through the enormous castle Draco was soon entering the dining hall promptly at 8am. Unlike the previous mornings, he found it even fuller so that the table had to be expanded. He sat at the head as per usual with his cloak perched on the back of his chair and placed his napkin on his lap as he surveyed his fellow breakfast guests.

Pansy sat to his right, surprisingly not seeming the least bit bitter that she'd woken up alone that morning. She shouldn't be. It was always how they –well, how _he_ left it, and so she should be used to it by now. Blaise sat next to her and he was clearly hungover. Despite that he seemed to be handling it pretty well. It had nothing to do with a potion, he was sure, and more to do with the witch on his right feeding him grapes. Tracey Davis.

Hestia Carrow sat at the end and she was throwing daggers at Goyle who was sitting across from her. Draco could only assume that she had spent the night with him and now was utterly infuriated that all of his attention had been drawn away by the youngest Greengrass sister, Astoria. Daphne sat next to her while Theo took up her right, which made up Draco's left.

That accounted for everyone at the table with the exception of the man who had decided to sit at the other head. Draco's cold eyes met his as well as a snarl that rose to his lips instantly.

"Uncle," he greeted unwillingly. "I'm surprised to see you here with us _children_."

Rodolphus snorted. He sipped his tea before responding, never once letting his eyes leave his nephew. "Had the Dark Lord not sent me here I surely wouldn't be."

"What did he send you for?"

"You have been here for almost two weeks. He wants to know why any progress hasn't been made in finding the resistance."

Draco felt a lump in his throat at the thought of Hermione back in his suite. On the outside, however, he smiled. "Top circle wizard downgraded to messenger. How embarrassing,"

"This is no laughing matter, Draco!" Rodolphus hissed. Draco rolled his eyes as he began to butter some toast.

"Your confusion between a smile and a laugh is amusing." He chuckled. "By the way, _that_ was a laugh, however small."

" _Draco,_ "

" _Relax_ , dearest Uncle. It's not like we've been slacking off, enjoying the luxuries of this _fine_ castle while you're living in some common house." Draco smiled again. "They're called the resistance for a reason, and as such they're not very easy to find. We patrol. We see and we listen. We have Snatchers and reliable sources alike on their toes for any useful information. When there is some, I'll let the Dark Lord know myself."

Rodolphus' nostrils flared. "He wants information _now_."

" _Tough luck,_ "

The table had already been silent since everyone was watching the amusing display between nephew and uncle. Now the silence was palpable and deadly at Draco's words.

Rodolphus huffed. "You'd better watch yourself, nephew. You may be rising through the ranks, but _no one_ gives the Dark Lord such news. And certainly not without severe punishment."

"I'm aware." Draco replied, his gaze steady and calculating. "But news is news, and I cannot help what the outcome is." Here he smirked and picked up his goblet of pumpkin juice. "I'm also aware that it's _you_ who has to deliver this news to our tyrannical overlord. Best not eat too much breakfast, Uncle. You may be upchucking it shortly."

Rodolphus' eyes flashed dangerously as he angrily rose from his seat, his chair falling to the ground with a loud clatter. Draco's stare dared him to say something, but no words left the elder man's lips. He merely clenched his teeth and stomped away from the dining hall. Moments later the sound of the Floo could be heard. Everyone at the table was looking at Draco now, their breakfast long forgotten.

Theo gulped. "Sometimes I don't think you care much for your life, mate."

Funny, sometimes so did he.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Knives under mattresses, sheer defiance, and conscientious of others. I think dangerous and sweet is a beautiful description of Draco :). And as promised, longer than the previous chapter!

I hope that you liked it and thank you for the support so far! Please feel free to leave a review/any theories on anything :D

-WP


	7. Blood

Hermione spent the entire day alone. Well, she couldn't exactly say that. There was still the house elf whom Draco had ordered to bring her breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She felt sorry for the poor thing because she knew that she had offended him by not eating most, if not everything, that he had brought for her. It honestly wasn't for lack of hunger, but rather at the fact that she rarely ate anymore. Her stomach wasn't used to such elaborate meals and therefore she could only take so much. Liquids, however, she could drink no problem as water had often replaced what should've been a meal.

Ron was nowhere. That didn't surprise her. As he'd once said, he never came when she didn't need him, and so on the chaise she lay, her gaze stuck on the ceiling for most of the day. "Most" because Hermione had done some ridiculous hopping around Draco's bedroom and neatly tore it apart as she looked for a wand. Just because Ron hadn't found one didn't mean that there still wasn't at least one spare wand lying around. However, no matter how hard she looked, she found nothing. Nothing except another knife on the floor under one of the dressers. It was small, more like a hand-sized dagger, and Hermione took it, slipping it under the chaise's cushion so it would be in easy reach. She'd also found the Veritaserum that Draco had taken from her earlier that morning. The Essence of Dittany he had given back, but that Veritaserum… She knew that wouldn't be returned to her, but even though she knew where it was now, she didn't take it. She would wait until her ankle was fully healed, and judging by how sore it felt after the day's events, she was sure it may take a little longer than the two remaining days of her three-day house arrest.

By the time Draco returned it was just after midnight and he slammed the door with such a fury that Hermione nearly jumped off the chaise in fright. When she finally got a good look at him he was chucking off his robes in an enormous heap and she gasped. He was covered in fresh cuts and bruises, not to mention blood. _A lot of blood_.She couldn't contain her shock.

"What happened to you?"

Draco turned sharp eyes on her and practically growled his words. "I got into a fight. What do you think?"

Hermione continued to stare as he literally kicked off his shoes and let them hit the wall beside his bed. "D-did someone _die?_ "

He bared his teeth at her with a strong fury living in his features. "I'm covered in blood. _What do you think?_ "

She gulped. "Were _you_ the one to kill him? Or her?"

Draco had been in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt when he stopped. He looked at Hermione, _really_ looked at her and saw her eyes filled with, not fear, but worry. He sucked his teeth and began to walk over to her in a slow, predatory manner.

"What's the matter, Granger? Are you surprised? Did you forget that I'm a Deatheater? That I kill –no, that I _murder_ people for a living?"

Hermione sunk back into the chaise as Draco grew closer, his face mere inches from hers as he spoke. No, she could never forget. Despite the fact that he was hiding her. Despite the fact that he was helping her with her ankle. Despite the fact he allowed her to bathe. Despite the fact that he fed her. Despite the fact that he was essentially _taking care of her_ , she could never forget that Draco Malfoy was a Deatheater.

"Get _out_ of my face, Malfoy." She said evenly, her hand discretely slipping under the chaise's cushion.

Draco's eyes narrowed as he came even closer, their noses brushing. " _Or_ _ **what?**_ "

Hermione's hand had reached the dagger and she whipped it out, cleanly swiping it across Draco's face. He screamed as he staggered back and she stared at him with murder in her eyes.

"I will _never_ forget, Malfoy! _Never!_ "

Draco pulled back his hand to reveal even fresher blood than the bit he'd been wearing. The cut wasn't deep. It hadn't meant to be. Hermione had only wanted to get him away from her. Now that he was, the blond was angrier than she'd ever seen him. Wandlessly he summoned the dagger from her and with his wand he bound her wrists together as well as her feet –although, curiously, the binds were higher up her legs and away from her hurt ankle. After that Draco threw himself into the bathroom and once the door was closed, locked, and a Silencing Charm in place he pressed his back against the expensive wood, slid down the door and cried. He cried as though he'd just found out he was dying. Then he cried even more when he realized that death wouldn't be so bad.

Tonight had been a terrible, _terrible_ night. They had found them. They had _actually_ found members of the resistance. Draco knew that the ones they had encountered weren't stationed here in Edinburgh. They had looked too worn, too tattered, and too tired to have been hiding with the resistance, and so he assumed that, like Hermione, she had heard rumors that they were there and had come looking for them.

Unlike Hermione, however, these three weren't the least bit cautious moving about a city they knew nothing about. Although they had prepared for Snatchers, they obviously didn't think they'd run across Deatheaters, or at the very least so many of them at one time. Draco and everyone from breakfast (minus Rodolphus, of course) were coming out of the pub at the time. When the three resistance members had seen them, they all took out their wands and started firing curses. One of them had been creative enough to use _Diffindo_ and Draco _hated_ to see the spell's effect on flesh. When it came in contact with Hestia who had been standing right next to him, the spell had slashed her from her left shoulder and down to her right hip _clean_. He had never been more disgusted in his life as he tried to grab her before she fell, only be holding onto two different parts of her.

Hence the blood.

A fight ensued that utterly dismantled the street, not to mention the pub. Aside from Hestia's death, one member of the resistance was also down for the count (not by Draco's hand), one fled, and the other, a redhead whose face Draco could _not_ for the life of him get out of his head, had been captured and taken to the Dark Lord. Although he had been well-prepared to punish Draco like he'd done his uncle for the news that had been brought back to him, this triumph tonight had saved a night filled with writhing on the floor.

"Important matters are being attended to tonight, but tomorrow…" Voldemort had smiled lipless-ly as he stared down at his prisoner. "Tomorrow every Deatheater shall convene here and watch his interrogation." He then leaned down to the redhead bound on the floor and cupped his cheek in his long-fingered hand. "And believe me when I say that the worst pain you will feel won't be coming from the Cruciatus Curse."

Voldemort's words still sent chills through Draco's body and he shook terribly because he knew what that poor, unfortunate resistance member was going to be going through. And it was his fault. It was all Draco's fault.

* * *

Draco never came out of the bathroom and Hermione slept in her binds that night. When he finally emerged he'd taken a shower and cleaned himself up well. He was still covered in scars though, including the one Hermione had given him across his cheek.

She watched as he transfigured his trash can into a steel one. He then levitated all the clothes he'd left in the middle of the room, his shoes near his bed, and clothes from the bathroom and placed them all into the trash can. He stared at it with disdain and pointed his wand sharply at them.

"Incendio,"

Everything was alight and giving off a fervent heat. Draco gave a half-smile at it before leaving the fire to do its work and standing in front of his dresser. His care for anything right now was obviously at an all-time low because he dropped his towel without standing behind the large door of his closet. Hermione averted her eyes and stared straight ahead at the shelves of books.

"You had my knife."

His voice sounded so calm that it was unnerving.

"I did."

"You cut my cheek."

Her voice hitched in her throat some. "Yes, I did."

"I was right there in front of you. _Right there_. And instead of going for my throat you went for my cheek. Why?"

Hermione arched her brow. "Do you seriously want me to answer that?"

"Yes! Look at me, damn it!" Draco shouted at her. He was facing her now and she tentatively brought her attention to him. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but thank Merlin he had on pants. "How many people have you killed, Granger?"

" _Sorry?_ "

" _How many people have you_ _ **killed?**_ "

Hermione swallowed, choosing to look down at her lap rather than at him at this moment. "What makes you think I've kept count?"

"Goodies like you _always_ keep count. How many?"

"…Nineteen Snatchers, eleven half-blood, eight pureblood civilians on Deatheater payroll, and three Deatheaters. Forty-one total."

Draco stared at her surprise. He had expected just a number, not a detailed list. Either she kept note as a personal triumph or, as he expected, each death haunted her in her sleep.

His anger abated some as he took a deep breath. "You've done all that and yet you hesitated to kill me. Why?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Why does it sound like you _want_ to die?"

Draco's heart accelerated. This was _not_ a conversation he wanted to be having, and he damn sure didn't want to have it with _her_. He ignored her question, turning around just to be seeing Giselle's pleasant face. His heart ached, and he hurriedly finished getting dressed. Hermione continued to stare at him and at his odd behavior before he grabbed his cloak, unbound her hands and feet, and left the bedroom in haste.

* * *

"You alright, mate?"

"Sod off,"

"Draco,-"

"Zabini, I'm warning you."

"Look, we're all upset about Hestia-"

" _Zabini,_ "

"-But you've got to admit, she was the weakest Deatheater out there. At least she went quickly."

Draco turned a death glare on him which shut Blaise up quickly. Theo silently asked the Italian what was up, but he simply shrugged and made a point to stay a good three feet away from the blond for the remainder of the day.

Everyone left Edinburgh Castle that morning in pairs or sets of three –except Draco. Blaise hadn't been the only one to see his mood that morning and no one wanted to be that close to his line of fire. Once out of the Floo flames Draco was met with a whole horde of Deatheaters and it made his skin crawl. Aside from the ones who had left the castle, he spotted Fiona first –Hestia's sister. He had to look away from her quickly before his resolve crumbled.

Marcus Flint was here as well as Adrien Pucey. That pretty much rounded up all the people from Draco's generation. All the other Deatheaters were older members back from the first war like Dolohov, Rowle, and Yaxley. Not to mention his uncle and his crazy aunt. Among the crowd Draco spotted his parents, and his eyes focused mainly on his mother. Above all else, he hated the fact that his mother was involved in this. She didn't wear the Mark, no, but being his father's wife practically made her a Deatheater. He was just thankful that Voldemort never sent her out on any missions. She merely had to be present.

Draco left the subconsciously (consciously?) divided room between his generation of Deatheaters and the others in order to greet his parents.

"Excellent work last night, son." Lucius smiled as he clapped a hand on Draco's shoulder. Said son looked up at him with cold eyes and either his father didn't notice or simply didn't care. Where was all of this adoration when it mattered?

Draco shrugged his father off of him and brushed his shoulder for good measure. "It was Blaise who finally disarmed and bound him. Not me."

"The Dark Lord put _you_ as head of Edinburgh Castle. A group victory is always yours."

Draco was snarling at his father by now, but before he could say or do anything his mother cut in and grabbed her son's hand. "Come walk with me, Draco."

Draco looked down at their hands and he sighed. "The meeting will start soon."

"When do they ever start on time?" Narcissa countered. "We have at least fifteen minutes before the stragglers come in, so let's not waste them."

His mother pulled him away from the mass of Deatheaters and soon into the empty corridors that were once theirs. She still held onto his hand as they walked and he frowned. It always made him feel like a child when she did this. However, he didn't complain.

"Tell me what's wrong, Draco."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Now, now, you know very well that I know you're lying." She smiled at him, finally letting his hand go so that he could brood properly by sticking it in the pocket of his cloak. "It's about that Carrow girl, isn't it? I thought you didn't care for her?"

"I didn't. Still don't. But even then...that's no way for someone to die." Draco thought about how he had turned to grab her falling body. How surprised and downright mortified he'd been when her blood had splattered him and when he realized that she was in pieces.

"Deaths on our side never used to be so...gruesome before." Narcissa commented softly. "But after years of fighting with us can you expect anything different? War changes people, Draco. The resistance members are not as innocent as they once were."

Draco couldn't help but let his hand gravitate to the cut on his cheek. Hermione had taken the time to hide his knife. She had slipped it out so carefully, so easily, and then sliced him with frightening precision. No, this was not the same innocent Hermione Granger he had gone to school with.

"Is there something else on your mind, dear?"

"There is…" He admitted, knowing that his mother would call him out on his lie had he said otherwise. "But I'd rather not burden you with it."

Narcissa frowned. "Draco,-"

"We should get back to the others." Draco interrupted. He took hold of his mother's hand and led her back the way they came. By the time they returned the last of those "stragglers" seemed to have just arrived and Voldemort was now addressing his crowd of followers.

"Young Nott, Zabini," Voldemort called to them. "Go and fetch our prisoner."

"It'd be our pleasure, my lord." Theo smiled as he and Blaise went off to the dungeons. Voldemort then turned his eyes on Draco.

"Draco, do stand by me."

Draco walked over and everyone's eyes on him made him feel like a target. More than half of those stares weren't friendly, including that of his uncle who seemed to be struggling to stay on his feet. That, at least, had allowed Draco to smile some. Until Voldemort placed a firm hand on his shoulder, that is.

"It is because of you, Draco, and your well-chosen Deatheaters that we gained a victory last night. We are one step closer to finding those mudbloods and blood traitors. And when we do, _you_ will be among the ones leading the charge."

There were hard claps and cries of joy from Draco's peers. There were slow claps from most of the others. Draco, on the other hand, thanked Voldemort for bestowing him this honor all the while fighting down the batch of bile that wanted to escape his lips.

The noise of someone struggling reached Draco's ears. He turned, as did everyone, to see Theo and Blaise dragging someone in and then roughly throwing him onto the middle of the floor. Draco stared at him with internal pity. There were more bruises on his body than there had been when they brought him in last night. Clearly a round of torturing had gone on. Now there would be more. It was terrible really. How much more could this man take? His family tree was getting picked off little by little, and it had all started when these damn Deatheaters had killed his twin.

"I already told you!" George shouted. "I don't know where they are –AH!"

Bellatrix had taken out her wand and Crucioed him. Draco kept his face impassive as he watched him writhe on the floor in positions that no one ever should. Although this was hardly his first time watching someone getting tortured, it was always different when it was someone he knew.

"Liar!" She shouted as she shot the Cruciatus Curse at him again. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Stop it." Draco grumbled at his aunt. "He can't be questioned if he's bloody unconscious. Obviously he's already been run into the ground."

Bellatrix turned her dark eyes on him, but Voldemort intervened before she could say anything.

"You will have more time with the blood traitor, Bellatrix, but not now. Draco is right. Questioning first, entertainment later. "

Draco's aunt looked ready to turn her wand on her meddling nephew, but her demeanor completely changed when her overlord asked her to bring in his "favorite puppet." She smiled with an insane glee while Draco's stomach churned violently. It wasn't long before the Deatheaters were all grinning evilly and began parting themselves to make way for "the puppet" as he was so often called. Although most Deatheaters hated Draco out of mere jealousy, no one could deny that this was his most brilliant idea. "Ingenious," McNair had called it, and if Draco couldn't get respect for anything else, he had certainly gained it for this. In fact, he was sure that it was the reason he had risen quickly as one of Voldemort's favorite Deatheaters.

George looked up from the ground at the figure who was now standing over him. He was a tall man, strong, and not wearing robes as were the others, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal the Dark Mark on his arm. He swallowed, his eyes growing wide as he took in the face of "the puppet."

"R-Ron?"

Ron looked as he always did: functioning on autopilot, eyes glassed over, but seeming to have nailed down the Deatheater look with ease. He should at this point, having been within Voldemort's grasp for two years now.

Voldemort's pleasure was evident as he turned to Draco.

"Do it."

Draco stared at Ron's back and drew his wand. "Torture him. Find out everything you can from him about the resistance. Don't stop until I tell you to."

George watched in horror as his own brother took out his wand and aimed it him. "Ron! Ron, don't! Don't do it! Don't –AH!"

"Where are they?!" Ron questioned him. "Where is the resistance?!"

"Ron…" George wheezed when the spell lifted. His eyes were watering as he looked up at him. "Fight it. You have to fight it. AH!"

"You know! You have to know! You wouldn't be here if you didn't know!"

"Ron, please…"

Draco tried his best not to flinch when Ron prepared the curse yet again. He wished his brother knew just how much he had fought the curse in the beginning. How he was _still_ fighting it. The only reason Ron was so robotic was because of how strongly Draco had casted the Imperius Curse. He had to give the redhead credit where credit was due, and he fought like hell and back through the curse. So much so that they had to leave him chained up in the dungeon because he would've tried to escape otherwise. Eventually Draco figured out just how much strength was needed to keep Ron under his control, and ever since then he'd been their "puppet" –sent to torture and kill just like every other Deatheater. And he was always, _always_ chosen to inflict harm on those he knew. As Voldemort had once said, it made the victory over him all the sweeter.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, if the end of this chapter doesn't convince you that Hermione's a little "unhinged" herself, then perhaps the next chapter will. Just a teaser for you :). Although most, if not all of you, have started to come to that conclusion. But, of course, this chapter opens the floodgate to quite a few questions. Feel free to ask them!

Thanks for everything everyone!

-WP


	8. Glass

"Ron this is a _terrible_ idea."

"It's a brilliant idea. You only think it's terrible because you didn't come up with it."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she leaned against the bathroom wall, making sure to put the most pressure on her left foot. Her right ankle was actually healing swimmingly and she imagined that by tomorrow she'd be right as rain again. That meant she and Ron needed to do what they –well, what _he_ –planned to do before Draco got back.

"Aha! Told you I wasn't seeing things." Ron said as he held up a shard of broken glass. Draco had thought he had cleaned it all up with his wand that night Hermione's potions broke, but he missed a piece. It had been in the corner of the bathroom just behind the toilet and away from any feet that might have stepped on it. "Now we just have to stick it between the crack of the door and we're set."

Hermione smiled at him. "When did you get to be this smart?"

Ron shrugged. "Maybe you just rubbed off on me."

It was as good an explanation as any and so Hermione led the way from the bathroom and over to the bedroom door. She had managed to figure out that Draco didn't have to use a wand or wandless magic to lock her in his room because his bedroom was already designed to do it. It placed Locking Charms, possibly Silencing Charms as well, on its own and did so whenever Draco wasn't in the room. It seemed to do that also after a certain time at night. Hermione had tried once and was surprised to find it still jammed shut even though her captor had been taking a shower. She had been planning to wait for the proper moment when Draco was here and it was before midnight –the slim (and risky) window of opportunity when the charms would be down. But Ron had had a stroke of genius.

The charms were in place whenever the door closed. It was like a loop, and all that was needed was something to disrupt it. Hence the glass. It wasn't a very big piece, but they couldn't use one of Draco's knives although the temptation was strong. Magic, as Hermione's Muggle Studies class had once taught her, could sometimes be looked at as an electric current which was why it most often had to be channeled through something like a wand. And if that was the case, using a knife would most likely cause more harm than good being the conductor that it was.

"Ow! Damn it!"

"For Merlin's sake, Ron. First the knife, now the glass. You're going to cut off a limb soon."

"I didn't bleed that night, thank you very much."

"Well, you're bleeding now."

Ron frowned at his thumb and wiped away the blood on his pants. This time he held the glass with the edge of his shirt and began to wedge it between the door and its frame. The moment the glass got into a good place, Hermione immediately felt the magical energy that had been radiating off the door lift and Ron turned the handle.

He grinned triumphantly as the door opened. "If this doesn't make you love me, Hermione, nothing will."

She smiled just as broadly as he and sighed. "I've always loved you. Now let's get a move on."

Hermione still wished desperately that she had a wand, but she would simply have to make do. For the first time since being brought here she stepped outside of Draco's bedroom and into the longest hallway she'd ever seen.

"Don't forget the glass." Hermione told Ron quickly before he closed the door. He showed her the piece of glass he had in his hand and slipped it into his pocket before shutting the door after him. She nodded and kept her ears on high alert.

Draco had told her that Deatheaters came into the castle at any time of the day (or night). As she headed into one of two rooms directly in front of the bedroom, she wondered, perhaps a bit too late, what she would do if one of them sauntered into the hallway. She frowned bitterly when she realized that that person, whoever it was, would have to die one way or another. She wasn't upset because of that person being dead, but rather having to add another number to her list. It had chewed her up on the inside having to reveal her kill list to Draco. She only ever kept that list in her head, but to say it out loud? It made her feel as dirty and guilty as ever.

"Do you want to search the place or just look around?" Ron asked as he walked into what appeared to be a study.

"If either of us had a wand, I'd say search." Hermione replied as she turned on the light. "But we don't know how much time we've got and the last thing we need is to be caught while we're ransacking everything."

"How about this: you look, I search? Split the work."

Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know, Ron. We really shouldn't separate…"

"We'll be fine." Ron reassured. "Just get going. The darker it gets the more dangerous this will be."

Hermione looked out of one the room's windows and saw the sun just over a hill. It would be another hour until it set at most. "Alright fine. Be careful, will you? Malfoy doesn't need to know what we're doing."

Ron nodded and proceeded to check in between couch cushions while Hermione left him. The room next to it was a bathroom –a beautiful one at that. While the one in Draco's bedroom had green painted walls and gold trimmings to match the bedroom and a combined shower and bathtub, this bathroom was painted a type of burgundy-red with gold trimmings and a separate shower and bathtub. Said bathtub was enormous and could easily fit up to four people. Hermione couldn't help but smile at it as she closed the door.

Next to the bathroom was yet another bedroom, purple walls, and gold trimmings. Across from that was also another bedroom with dark orange walls and, surprise surprise, gold trimmings. Hermione was quite sure she'd find those trimmings in every room and wasn't disappointed when she stepped into the tearoom next to the second bedroom she'd gone into. Across from that tea room was a long hallway, and she deduced that where Draco was staying had to be a suite of some sort. A large hole buried into her stomach at the mere thought that this extravagant corridor that she was walking down was only _one part_ of a huge castle. If –no, _when_ the time came for her to escape, how exactly was she supposed to navigate this beautiful architectural monstrosity?

Hermione tried not to think about that just yet as she passed the hallway and into the room right next to it. It was a study with royal blue walls and…a fireplace! The other study didn't have one nor did the tea room, but this one…this one had it. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest at the thought that this fireplace could be her way of escape. But what other fireplaces was it connected to? Could it possibly be connected to the pub/inn she had spent the night with Draco in? There was only one way to find out, and if it worked she could be out of this death trap in mere seconds.

Hermione awkwardly ran over to the fireplace without hurting her healing ankle as best she could. Just as she put her hand up to grab a handful of Floo Powder the fireplace roared to life. Her eyes widened terribly as she dashed behind a large desk and curled up underneath it. The moment she did, however, she had to bite down hard on her tongue to keep herself from screaming out. Something sharp was stabbing into her hip, but she couldn't move to relieve the pain. Not now. Not while there were very familiar voices echoing off the walls in the room she was in.

"So why did you all choose to come back to the castle through _my_ bloody fireplace?"

Hermione cringed at his language, but nothing made her squirm more than the pain she was feeling in her hip. She could already tell that a steady stream of blood was pooling.

"We all know you've got the best booze." Came Blaise's voice. Draco huffed.

"That would be in the tea room."

"I said _best_. Not that cheap crap you keep for a normal day."

"Today sure wasn't normal." Goyle chuckled. "Most people crack under that kind of torture, but Weasley-?"

Hermione held in her gasp.

"-He took it like a champ."

" _Especially_ considering who was doing the torturing." Pansy added. She sighed then, and Hermione heard shuffling feet and assumed that she, possibly the others as well, had taken seats. "He'll crack by tomorrow."

"Are we taking bets?" Theo asked, a wide grin adorning his features. Draco rolled his eyes.

Pansy smiled. "What's on the table?"

"You spend the night with me if he doesn't crack."

"And if he does?"

"I spend the night with you."

"What's the difference?"

"Who gets control that night."

Hermione felt her gag reflexes coming into play as she imagined the seductive smirk to accompany his words. Pansy laughed and there was more shuffling of feet.

"Still waiting on that booze, Draco." Blaise announced.

Draco grumbled, probably slurring more obscenities as he walked off somewhere in the room. "Goyle, grab some glasses will you? They're in the drawer in my desk."

Hermione's panic levels rose higher than they already were. She gulped and brought her attention to her right hip. Through her denims she could see a dark spot forming, and although she was slightly worried about the blood loss, she was more concerned with the large figure now hovering over the desk. She reluctantly tucked her legs in closer, muffling her cry of pain as whatever was stabbing her went a bit deeper. Tears fell down her cheeks and Goyle's body took on a blurry form as she looked up at his lower half.

Goyle tried the first drawer to his right. No glasses were in there so he tried the top one to his left. Before he could try the bottom drawers, and therefore catch an up-close view of Hermione hiding under there, Draco's voice snapped at him viciously.

"What the hell is taking so long to find glasses?"

" _You_ come for them then. It's _your_ desk."

"Bloody useless," Draco growled grumpily as he stomped his way to his desk. He pushed Goyle out of the way and leaned down to the bottom drawer on his right. There were no words to describe the look on his face when he was met with Hermione's tear-stricken one. He was surprised, sure. Angry, of course. But above all else there was a panic that rivaled Hermione's and he swallowed deeply.

"You lost back there, mate?" Theo teased. "Hurry up before Blaise here starts drinking from the bottle. Oh wait, damn, too late."

Everyone laughed while Draco waved his hand towards her. Hermione looked down at herself and realized that she now blended into the desk and floor. "Do _not_ leave." He whispered. He finally retrieved the glasses he had gone there to get and returned to his friends.

Hermione didn't dare defy him this time around and so she sat there, waiting, listening to drinks being poured, glasses tinkling, crude remarks, even a few kissing noises. Hermione didn't know how long she had been sitting under that desk, but it had been long enough for the charm on her to wear off and for her to begin falling asleep. She didn't fall into a deep one though and found herself roughly being pulled at moments later.

"Get out of there, Granger!" Draco yelled at her. He grabbed at her arms and practically yanked her out from under his desk. She yelped at his roughness, her eyes wide as he shoved her so that she nearly toppled over the desk. "What the hell were you doing in here?!"

Even though she wasn't directly in front of his face, Hermione could smell the alcohol on his breath. He was furious, that was for certain, and he stood there waiting for an answer. "Malfoy, I-"

"Save it!"

"But you just asked-?"

"Save it, I said!" He cut her off and then grabbed at her yet again, throwing her over his shoulder just as he'd done when he brought her from the hills. As she landed on his shoulder and he began walking out of the study, Hermione was instantly reminded of her injury and the pain she'd been numbed to instantly intensified.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Hermione screamed as Draco carried her through the hall and soon pass the threshold of his bedroom.

"Can you wait until we're properly in my bedroom before you start bloody screaming like that?!"

"Put me down! Put me down! _Put me down!_ " She continued yelling. Draco essentially threw her onto the chaise while Hermione frantically began digging into her pocket. She soon pulled out a shard of glass between bloody fingers and let it fall to the floor. Her action had sobered Draco up quickly as that was _not_ what he'd been expecting for her to do. He stared at both the glass and at her oddly, not to mention at the blood on the side of her pants and shirt.

"What in Merlin's name were you doing with glass in your pocket?"

His words barely registered with her. She was staring beyond him at Ron who was smiling, standing with his hands at the rim of his pants. She gulped. "I used the glass to break your charms on the door."

Draco's brows rose. Although she expected him to be mad, he seemed to be more impressed than anything else. He simply shook his head at her, shortly regretting it as the world gave a small turn. Once he'd steadied himself again, he pulled out his wand and took a deep breath.

"Still a bright witch, I see. A constant pain in my arse, but a bright one."

Once again his words were distant. She kept staring at Ron whose form slowly disappeared from her sight. "It wasn't my idea..." She whispered, finally coming to terms with just how insane she really was.

"What?"

Hermione turned her eyes to him. They were large and terrified and her breathing had grown erratic. Draco had taken hold of her hand so that he could heal it, but instead of him doing the holding, it was she, and she was holding onto it for dear life.

"Granger," he called. She didn't answer. Although she was staring right at him it was as though she wasn't seeing at all. Draco set his wand aside and waved his hand in front of her face. "Granger? Granger, say something."

Nothing. She would probably kill him for this, but desperate times and all that…

Draco slapped her. Hermione instantly let go of his hand and she blinked twice, looking over his shoulder at something that he couldn't see. "What's wrong with you?"

Hermione looked at him. She swallowed and soon shook her head. "I'm fine."

He didn't believe that for a second, but considering that a headache was brewing from the five shots of Potent Pixie Dust he'd thrown back, he was in no mood to press the issue. Instead he reached for her hand again and picked back up his wand. Hermione furrowed her brow.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, in case you didn't notice, both your hand and your hip are bleeding. I'm healing them."

Hermione's eyes widened. "But you're drunk!"

"And?"

" _And_ you shouldn't be practicing magic when you're drunk!" She said as she snatched her hand away. Draco groaned as he reached for it back, but she kept it far from him.

"I'm not as drunk as I look."

"Drunk is drunk, Malfoy."

"Damn it, Granger, just let me heal you! They'll get infected if I don't!"

"I understand that, but you could do more harm than good." Hermione rightly reasoned. "Give me your wand and I'll heal myself."

Draco snorted. "Do I look stupid?"

"No, you look impaired."

" _Granger,_ "

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine, then give me mine."

Draco tilted his head to the side. "Are _you_ drunk?"

"If I have mine you can aim yours at me while I heal myself. Deal?"

Through his drunk face Hermione could see that he was seriously thinking about it. After a few passing moments Draco mumbled something about regretting what he was about to do and snapped his fingers. Her wand appeared in his hand and he stared at her sternly before handing it over.

"Don't make me regret giving this to you."

Hermione nodded and soon relished in the feeling of having her wand back. The moment the wood touched her fingers she immediately thought about cutting back on her word. One good Stunning Spell would knock him back on his arse and then she could be shot of him. But as quickly as the thought entered into her mind, the thought fled and guilt filtered in. Despite annoying her to no end, Draco had yet to do any harm to her –just like back at the inn. If she used her wand on him, out of the pair of them, a resistance member and a Deatheater, _she'd_ be the dishonest one.

With a sigh Hermione used her wand to clear away the blood from both her hand, hip, pants and shirt. The wound on her hand was an easy fix. The wound on her hip was a different story and she found it difficult to aim her wand correctly and perform the proper movements due to the small, yet deep gash that was there. She'd failed three times to properly perform the necessary spell when Draco had had enough. He took her wand away and made it disappear, leaving Hermione absolutely fuming where she sat.

"Malfoy!"

"You can't heal that yourself."

"But you're-!"

"Not as drunk as I look," he reiterated as he stopped aiming his wand at her. "Lay down and ease the side of your pants down a little."

Hermione was livid, but her injury was becoming unbearable –especially when she moved. Once she had lain down she made it a point not to move again with the exception of adjusting her denims so Draco could attend to her wound. He sat on the edge of the chaise, raised her shirt some, and placed his left hand just above her ribcage –an incredibly awkward position for her seeing as it was dangerously close to her bra-less chest. She bit her tongue and held back a crude remark as he began to heal her hip. She knew instantly when he was done because the pain was gone, and yet, he still hadn't removed his hand.

"That night at the inn," Draco began, his fingers tracing small circles on her scarred skin. "You didn't stop me. I had the perfect excuse, but you? You knew exactly who I was and yet you still let me kiss you. Why didn't you stop me?"

"You caught me off guard." Hermione replied honestly, and she sat up while placing a hand over his to gently remove it from her. "That's all."

"Hmm," he mused, then he placed both of his hands on the sides of her face and made her look at him. "I'm going to kiss you, Granger."

Draco hesitated for several seconds, staring into those eyes that had been staring back at him at the inn, out on the hills, and in his bedroom that first night. He couldn't help his smile and did kiss her, but only a chaste one on the forehead that had surprisingly disappointed the witch before him.

"You were right. I am as drunk as I look. Good night."

He released her from his grasp and headed to his bed. Hermione sat there with all the confusion in the world muddling around inside her head. What exactly was he playing at?

* * *

 **Author's note:** So, I originally wasn't going to post until next week, but there's a huge possibility that I won't be able to. My grandma died over the weekend and the funeral is next week :(.

But, onto happier things and let's talk about the chapter :). Okay, so it's not exactly "happy" considering that all of your suspicions about Hermione's insanity was just confirmed. Also, I think I like Draco when he's (not lol?) as drunk as he looks.

Thanks for all the great reviews/support for the story so far!

-WP


	9. Memories and Shoppe Keepers

Draco looked on as Ron continued torturing his brother. He could just imagine what was going on in the other redhead's head and he wished _desperately_ that he could answer his questions for him. Maybe he could? But not today, and certainly not now.

"Stop…" George pleaded. There was barely any in life in him now; and by rights he should be dead after all the work Ron put on him, but he was still holding on. Goyle had been right. He was taking it like a champ.

"Go back to your quarters, Weasley." Draco ordered. Ron looked back at him with a look of surprise.

"But-?"

" _Go_ , I said."

Ron nodded and walked down the dungeon's corridor and sat in his designated cell. The door would lock after him and that's where he would stay until he was needed again. Although under a heavy Imperius Curse and well-controlled unlike before, Voldemort still feared that he might be able to fight through it in time. Everyone had a tolerance level for something, and Ron's might get higher.

Once he was back in his cell, Draco glanced at the door to the dungeons before slipping himself fully into George's. George, although severely injured, tried to scurry away from him. He really didn't have to. Draco merely stood over him, arms crossed over his chest, and a deep sigh escaping him some moments later.

"You really need to come clean, Weasley."

George spat at his feet. Draco used his wand to clean it off his shoes and then stuffed it away again.

"Your brother will kill you if you don't."

"Only because _you're_ controlling him."

Draco frowned. "I'm controlling him because I have to. It's the only way to end this war." He paused and thought of Hermione. "Well, one of two ways."

George's brows rose into his hairline. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You, you're expendable-"

"Sod off,"

"-But your brother is not. My concern for you is very minimal, and the only reason that I don't want you to die is because I _know_ you know something that I can use."

"I'm not telling you anything." George said defiantly. "I'd rather die –even at the hands of my own brother –than to let the Order fall into your filthy clutches."

Draco chuckled. "How noble of you. But I hope you realize that if you don't give up what you know and you die, we'll only do worse to your companion who ran off once we find her. I doubt very much she'll last longer than you when it comes to torturing."

George's eyes widened. Draco figured that might do the trick. He wasn't an idiot and he saw how he tried to protect the woman he was with while fending for his life. It was the only reason Blaise was finally able to capture him. He had been so busy trying to make her run, to get her out of there that he wasn't paying attention and got caught off-guard.

George gulped and he sadly looked to the floor. "...Whether I say something or not, you just may find her anyway. She'd never forgive me if I gave up what I know. So I won't, and neither will she." He smiled then, his teeth stained red. "And she knows Occluemncy just like I do."

Draco sighed. "I was really hoping that I wouldn't have to do this."

George tensed up the moment he saw Draco reaching for his wand. This was it. He was going to die. He had known that the moment he was captured that his death was imminent, he just wasn't sure how close that imminence was. And so he closed his eyes, preparing for the Killing Curse to hit him, but as the seconds ticked on, he realized that he was still alive. He dared to open one eye, stared at the blond Deatheater strangely, and then opened his other eye so his true expression of befuddlement could shine through.

Draco was holding a shimmering thread at the end of his wand and tapping it into a small vial. There was liquid inside, and once the vial was corked he shook it up, then he stretched it over to George to take.

"The potion inside works like a pensieve." He explained. "Drink it. Hopefully then you'll tell me what I need to know."

George's mouth fell open. He continued to eye the vial with the Deatheater's memories inside with extreme curiousness and trepidation. Draco watched him. He then glanced back up at the dungeon's door and grew anxious.

"Drink it yourself or I shove it down your throat, Weasley."

George had had enough torturing today and so he took the vial. He tossed it back in one go and all at once his eyes turned white. Draco stood there, watching the redhead's facial reactions change throughout everything he was seeing. He had had the potion brewed and bottled about a year after having Ron behind Malfoy Manor's walls. His memories he kept updating and categorizing properly so if the moment came for it, he'd be ready. When George had been apprehended, Draco just knew that this was the time.

Once George's eyes cleared, Draco looked at him expectantly. A few tears had drifted down his cheeks towards the end of the memories, and Draco knew that he was seeing the parts about Hermione.

"D-does she know?" George asked weakly.

"No."

"But your plan… And Ron, she probably thinks he's dead-"

"I'm sure she does." Draco interrupted. "And she needs to keep thinking that way. She'll want to rescue him if she finds out and I can't let that happen. The biggest lead the resistance has is the fact that the Dark Lord thinks she's dead and that your brother is completely under our control. I just need to get him and her out safely. To do that, I need to know where they are, Weasley."

"...But then the other Deatheaters will know too."

"Not if you just tell me and lie your arse off to everyone else. Granted, they'll find out you lied eventually."

"And then kill me."

Draco bit the inside of his jaw. "I'll find a way to get you out before that happens."

"No," George shook his head. He then grimly smiled, wiping away at the tears that were joining ones previously shed. "I'm expendable, remember? You just get my brother and Hermione back to us." He took a deep breath and then smiled for real. "We have a contact here in Edinburgh…"

* * *

Just like the other days she was there, Hermione had been left alone. Unlike the other days, she was dreading seeing Ron. Although a part of her had known it was unhealthy, it really hadn't struck her as to how unhealthy her hallucination of him really was. It unnerved her. And now that she knew that someone in his family had been captured, what if she started imagining them all in turn?

With a heavy heart and a deep sigh, she spent the majority of the time that Draco was gone pacing his bedroom. In fact that was how Draco came home to find her, some several hours later, and he had managed to stare at her for several minutes before she finally noticed him.

"I see your ankle is healed."

"My..?" Hermione looked down. She hadn't even realized that she'd been walking on it so well. She turned to Draco then and smiled. "I guess so. How soon can you get me out of here?"

The corner of Draco's mouth curled upward. "So quick to be shot of me, are you?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'd rather not be in a place where everyone wants to kill me."

"Fair point." He replied as he slipped off his cloak and hung it up in his closet. He turned to find Hermione still standing in the same spot and gazing at him expectantly. "What?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Oh, right." His thoughts instantly reverted to his conversation with George. There was so much to do, so much to figure out. "Soon. I'll get you out soon."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Why not tonight? Quite frankly I thought you would've slung me over your shoulder and carried me out of here the moment you realized my ankle was fine."

Draco smirked. "While the prospect of a writhing woman over my shoulder sounds…interesting, tonight's no good. There are too many Deatheaters in the castle tonight."

Although not the primary reason for keeping her here for at least another night, it wasn't a lie. In addition to the other four who lived in Edinburgh Castle, the Greengrass sisters and Tracey Davis had returned. Much to Draco's displeasure, others had joined them: Adrian Pucey, Marcus Flint, and Fiona Carrow. Fiona was his least favorite guest. He had nothing against her, but he found it rather unsettling having to be near her after her sister had been so recently murdered. It helped very little that they looked exactly the same.

"I'll work on getting you out tomorrow, Granger. So, for tonight, relax a little."

Hermione huffed. "'Relaxing' entails sitting, and Merlin knows I've done enough of that while being here."

"Well, you're damn sure not leaving this room, so I don't know what else to tell you."

She smiled. "Firewhiskey would be nice."

Both brows rose on Draco's face and he chuckled. "Hmm, you seem more like a Butterbeer girl to me."

"I feel like celebrating. It's not every day someone can say they've been _this_ close to a Deatheater for three days and still be alive."

Draco nodded. "A celebration it is then. Study room liquor-worthy even,"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as she remembered the conversation that went on with him and his friends. She had to fight off a shiver though at replaying Theo and Pansy's bet. She sat down comfortably on the chaise while Draco left his room to go retrieve whatever he and his friends considered "the best." When he came back there was a bottle in one hand and two short glasses in the other. He handed one to her and set the bottle between them as he sat down at the other end of the chaise. Hermione picked up the bottle and read the label.

"Dragon's Breath, year 1812. This looks lethal."

Draco grinned as he slipped the bottle from her fingers. "The stuff you like the best are usually the worst for you."

He opened the bottle and the smell of it hit Hermione's nose hard although she wasn't that close to it. He filled his glass, then hers, and knocked his back within one go before filling his glass again. Hermione, on the other hand, was already regretting this but she threw hers back just as Draco had done and felt her throat catch on fire.

"For the love of Merlin," Hermione gasped. Draco laughed, tossing a third shot down.

"They named it right, didn't they?"

"I'd certainly say so."

Draco topped off her glass and then his. Hermione marveled at him for his liquor intake, but then she marveled at him for a whole other reason. She sighed before subjecting her throat to another round of hell fire.

"You're an enigma, Malfoy."

Draco glanced at her from his periphery. "What makes you say that?"

"You're a Deatheater who's been harboring a muggleborn in his bedroom for three days." Hermione swiped her finger around the rim of her glass and tried hard to keep her face straight ahead of her. "I just don't understand why you'd go through the trouble to-"

"Don't. You wanted to drink, so let's drink. You can nitpick at my actions later."

Hermione smiled some. "You told me that before."

"I know." Draco grinned. "And I still mean it."

Hermione sighed and grabbed the bottle from him to pour herself another glass when she realized that it was empty. "Um, Malfoy?"

"I'm sure going to be feeling this tomorrow." Draco said as he got up from the chaise. "I'll go grab another."

"Another" was the last thing that Hermione wanted, but regardless she was still happy that he was gone. She could be out of here and back out onto the streets as soon as tomorrow, but she would still be screwed once she got out there. Her goal in coming to Edinburgh was to find the resistance and she still had no idea how to go about doing that. Except through Draco. That's why while he was gone she tiptoed to one of his dresser drawers and pulled out the Veritaserum he had taken from her. She could use it now seeing as she could spike his drinks with it, but the effects of Veritaserum on an inebriated person often proved insufficient. Hermione couldn't waste this opportunity, and so she slipped the potion into her pocket and made her way back to the chaise just as Draco came back with a brand new bottle of Dragon's Breath. Tomorrow was a new day, and she had already devised a way to get the Veritaserum down his throat.

* * *

"You look like hell."

Draco didn't reply. If after taking a Sobering Up Potion and you _still_ looked like hell then you had way too much to drink the night before. That happened to be the case. When he woke up that morning with a hammering headache, he wasn't in his bed. He had been on one end of the chaise while Hermione was asleep on the other. There were two empty bottles of Dragon's Breath on the floor and one half-empty bottle of Milton's Mysterious Brew. He had sat there staring at the bottles in disbelief that he had chosen _her_ of all people to devour three bottles of his best liquors with.

Before leaving his bedroom he stretched Hermione out on the chaise so she wouldn't spend the rest of her sleep curled up in one corner. He also called for Polly and gave him special instructions regarding having tea prepared by the time he returned. He knew he would need it and, with a slight smile, he figured that the woman in his room would appreciate the gesture after finding out just how many cups of tea she digested in a day.

Down in the dining hall Draco let his tired eyes pass over everyone there all the while replaying Voldemort's words in his mind from yesterday. _"Make them prove their worth."_ He knew what that meant. It all boiled down to what the evil man had told him just a few days ago about weeding out the weak. Today Draco would be leading a small group of Deatheaters to the man whom George had "ratted on." It was an obvious lie –one that Draco had encouraged the redhead to tell. Only he knew who the real resistance's ally was and he was _still_ grinning ear-to-ear about that one. The person whom he and the Deatheaters he chose were going to bombard today had been a pain in his arse from the moment he and the others had moved into Edinburgh Castle. This was the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

Draco sipped on more of his Sobering Up Potion and finally felt more of the desired effects that would allow him to function properly. Once he was feeling better he cleared his throat and garnered the attention of everyone at the table.

"Flint, Pucey," he paused unnoticeably before turning his eyes to the girl at the end of the table. "Carrow… You'll come with me." Draco looked to the left and figured that he would need at least _one_ good Deatheater on his side. "Blaise, you too. The rest of you scour the town for that one resistance member who ran off."

"You think she's still going to be here?" Theo asked with a cocked brow. Draco nodded.

"These people are too _good_ to leave one of their own behind. She wouldn't have gone anywhere except into hiding. Find her."

There were murmurs of "Alright," "Sure," and "Will do," and soon the dining hall was bustling. Draco had already brought down his cloak and so all he had to do was wait for the others. Fiona, to his dismay, had been the first to meet him by the north exit/entrance. He was doing his utmost best to ignore her, but she wasn't making it easy for him.

"I'd rather be with the others."

He glanced at her briefly and huffed. "Let me guess. Revenge for your sister?"

"Naturally,"

Draco shook his head and sighed. "And _that's_ why I wanted you with me." _Sort of._ "Revenge doesn't do anyone any good."

Fiona scowled viciously as she crossed her arms. "The Dark Lord kills when _he's_ upset."

"The Dark Lord kills when he snags his cloak."

"What's your _point_ , Malfoy?"

"The _point_ is that you're fueled with rage right now." Draco said as he finally faced her. "You'll probably charge in the moment you find her, try to kill her, but end up getting yourself killed instead."

"She won't kill me."

"Why? Because you're so invincible?"

" _Malfoy,-_ "

"Don't." He interrupted. "You've got half the skills required to be a good Deatheater –a quarter to be considered the best. That woman would kill you in two seconds flat. I _guarantee_ it. So stop whining about where I assigned you and keep focused on the task at hand."

Fiona looked ready to angrily reply but they were soon joined with the three other members of the team. Blaise was smiling broadly as he eagerly rubbed his hands together.

"Now, now," he said as he approached. "Let's save the fighting for the cage we're about to rattle."

"Agreed," Draco chimed in and led the way out of the castle.

The journey to the hills took the customary fifteen minutes and soon they were all apparating to town. A few of the residents were a bit surprised to see them wandering through the streets, and it was no shock as to why. They _never_ went to town during the day. Patrol promptly started two hours before sunset and continued for another. Afterwards they always went to the pub. The only exception to the rules was for the random day patrols (which this was not) or if they were seeking someone in particular (which they were). That particular someone was a half-blood who owned a shoppe near the edge of town. Usually Draco dreaded these kinds of things because, since being in a group, there'd be no way of escape for the poor unfortunate soul. But this "soul" was far from unfortunate and, considering that, the blond was quite looking forward to what would happen next after all the work he'd put in last night before heading home.

"Ah, isn't it two-thirds of my favorite Deatheaters." The shop owner, Gavin Wexler, greeted with a forced smile as he stepped out from behind his counter. "Along with some new faces. What kind of purchases can I help you with today?"

"We're not here for purchases, Gavin." Draco said. He smiled some at the man's faltered expression and even more so at the nervousness that had immediately etched onto his face.

 _Hmm, nice touch._

"You're not? I see. Well, what can I help you with then?"

Draco turned to the Deatheater who seemed the least bloodthirsty. "Pucey, if you please?"

Adrian pulled out his wand and instantly Gavin was bound by the hands and feet and dropped to his knees. Blaise took the liberty to lock the front door, not to mention to pull down the shoppe window blinds. Draco took a moment to gaze at the binds and noted that they could've been conjured a lot tighter. But alas, that's what he had wanted in the first place.

"What's going on?" Gavin stammered. "I don't understand."

"What's going on, Gavin," Blaise addressed him. "Is that you're a traitor. A little birdie told us that you're in contact with the resistance."

Gavin's eyes grew wide. He began to fidget in his binds and Draco took an unnoticed step back so that he could place his elbow on a shelf and lean on it.

"I'm not! I swear I'm not!"

Blaise smirked some. "Then why are you sweating, Gavin?"

 _Show time._

A bit of wandless magic on Draco's part caused their prisoner's binds to loosen even further. After that he reached a hand into the pocket of his robe and carefully pulled out a wand that wasn't his –a wand that belonged to a certain redhead who had given him permission to use it. With it behind his back he discretely casted a spell to throw his voice. A little manipulation on his part made it so only one person in the room could hear it, and that person was Gavin.

"Break free of your binds and _non-lethally_ attack."

Draco returned the borrowed wand to his pocket just as Gavin had broken the binds apart as though they were paper thin.

"What the hell?" Marcus said wide-eyed, but no one offered a response as everyone –sans Draco –threw themselves either to the left or to the right in order to avoid a vicious blast from a quickly drawn wand. The blond merely side-stepped behind the shelf and quirked a brow into the air.

 _Huh. I couldn't have imagined him having that much juice in him…_

Or Fiona for that matter. She was the first one on her feet and waving her wand at him with an energy of magic to match what Gavin had thrown at them. Too bad she had terrible aim and he didn't have to move very far (or at all) in order to miss it. Draco rolled his eyes as he casually crossed his arms and watched the scene.

Blaise was on the ball as always, casting a spell that would've knocked Gavin clear across the counter and onto his back room had the Imperiused man not dove out of the way. Instead it blasted the door to the backroom in dozens of pieces, obscuring the fight scene so that Gavin could cast a Leg-Locker Curse at Marcus' feet. Marcus was down for the moment while Adrian, Fiona, and Blaise took off between the shelves that Gavin had scurried into.

Draco was hoping that the fight would remain in the front of the room so that he could stay put, but if he wanted to see how this thing played out, he would have to put in some leg work.

"Move your arse, Flint." Draco growled at him as he took out his proper wand and correctly undid the curse that Marcus had been dismally fiddling with. A rough pull of the collar got the man up on his feet and Draco pushed him forward to the sounds of spells firing off, glass breaking, and grunts and calls of various people as the fighting ensued.

Draco made it in time to dodge some friendly fire. His eyes narrowed when he realized that it was Fiona's doing. She mouthed a "sorry" before going back at it and, although getting closer, missing her target yet again. Marcus got Gavin back with a Leg-Locker Curse of his own, but a discrete motion of Draco's hand took the curse off. The next thing he knew Marcus was careening into a shelf and becoming buried in knick-knacks.

 _He'll sure feel that one later._

Another swipe of Gavin's wand and Fiona was limp and tumbling to the floor. Draco couldn't help but smirk at the scene –at how easy they were getting picked off by just one man. He crossed his arms, wand jutting out as he held it in his hand, and followed Adrian with his eyes as he fell back, from such a basic spell like _Petrificus Totalus_.

Gavin turned his wand on Blaise next, and when he did Draco knew that he could no longer just enjoy the show. Blaise, eyes hard and his jaw set, disarmed Gavin and tossed Draco his wand. The blond caught it easily and then proceeded to bind him –properly this time. Gavin kept up his struggle as he was still Imperiused to keep on attacking. Blaise stormed over to him and once he was sure he was in the clear, Draco threw his voice yet again with George's wand to order him to stop. That, however, did nothing to keep the glazed look in his eye from being seen.

Draco sighed, and he wondered if torturing would ensue for George, a quick death, or a combination of both.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Draco is quite the mastermind (if I don't say so myself)! So George has let on, there's a contact in Edinburgh. Any guesses as to who? The next chapter will give you your answer :D

-WP

P.S. Thanks for your condolences everyone. I had a bit of downtime so I thought I'd post :). The funeral is Friday and then my family and I can finally relax. Whew!


	10. The Truth

Torture.

Voldemort was too angry, too volatile, to let Ron have at it and so he was the one who dealt George with vicious variants of the Cruciatus Curse and other forms of magic Draco was unfortunate to witness.

This was _after_ doling out everyone else's punishment.

Theo and his teammates were punished in their failure for not finding the third resistance member. Draco and his lot were punished for being taken down so easily by just one man who wasn't even in control of his own mind anyway. Of course, although it still hurt like hell, Draco's torture was less painful than the others'. The word "favoritism" could be heard rolling off of various Deatheater tongues –even those of his own generation. But only the blond knew the real reason why he had gotten off "easy," not to mention the slight reprimand he had been given by the evil snake:

 _Next time, don't fail in the process. Sacrifice without sacrificing._

Draco could grunt about it now. While standing in the Dark Lord office with the fiend before him, he had to fight hard to keep his face stoic all the while his innards were going haywire. It was easy for him, wasn't it? To bark out orders but not understand the lengths he and others have to go through in order to carry out such orders.

Draco sighed and flinched as he traversed the halls of Edinburgh Castle, Deatheaters branching off, sporting battle wounds and the effects of torture, to different rooms along the way. Soon it was just him and Blaise walking along, but before Draco could do his own bit of branching, his friend pulled him back and spoke in a dark, low tone.

"I saw you, you know."

Draco stared at him, partly out of a calm panic, but also with an inkling that what his friend was going on about had nothing to do with playing devil's advocate. He decided to play out the latter and feigned ignorance.

Draco shrugged. "Saw what?"

Blaise sneered some and huffed. "At Gavin's shoppe. The half-blood was kicking our arses and you just… _stood there_. Watching."

The blond couldn't help the small smile that was tugging at the corner of his lips. "He was kicking _their_ arses." He corrected, nodding his head back down the corridor where the rest of their haggard ambush team went. "You, on the other hand, were doing just fine."

The Italian's eyes narrowed as his voice grew cold. "Just what the hell did you think you were doing?"

Draco's mirth faltered. He didn't like the way he was looking at him and now it was _his_ turn to sneer. "Dark Lord's orders."

Those three words were enough to draw Blaise back. He blinked and glanced down the corridor Draco had gestured to not more than two minutes ago. " _He's testing us?_ "

"He's testing _them_."

"Hm," Blaise said thoughtfully. "What about me?" He asked suddenly. "The Dark Lord isn't testing me? Not even Theo?"

"No,"

"Would you tell us if he was?"

 _No._

"Of course I would." Draco replied with a convincing smile. "Regardless, you have nothing to worry about. The Dark Lord likes you."

Blaise snorted. "He tolerates me. He likes _you_."

"And he likes you _because_ he likes me. Now enough with this 'who daddy dearest loves more' crap. I'm tired and these residual spasms are driving me up the bloody wall."

Blaise laughed, soon after followed by a swear after his own residual effects of the Cruciatus Curse travelled through him. Draco turned and frowned so he couldn't see and glanced at a grandfather clock that chimed to his right. In another two hours it would be midnight. He could've been home hours ago had he not been tortured, but there was no way in hell he'd be moving an inch after what Voldemort had put him through –any of them for that matter. So he and the others had stayed at Malfoy Manor to recuperate. Quite frankly, Draco thought it would've been better for those who'd come back to the castle (Fiona, Marcus, and Adrian specifically) to have remained behind since they had been tortured the worst for "disgracing" their leader. None of them, however, had wanted to spend the night in the home of an emotionally unstable overlord, so they opted to brace the pain and travel back.

At least while he was recuperating Draco was able to sneak George's wand back to where he had taken it from.

"You look like hell."

Draco paused. He had made it to his bedroom and was startled by the voice, turning to find Giselle where he had expected Hermione to be.

"Swearing doesn't suit you."

Giselle smiled. "It doesn't; I know. But by _not_ swearing, I would've completely undermined your disheveled look."

Draco grimaced. "Thanks?" He replied as he shut the door, then he looked all about the room for the brunette who should've been giving him a questioning stare by now. "Where's Granger?"

Giselle motioned her head towards the bathroom. How he had missed the sounds of running water, he wasn't sure, but sure enough there was a shower was going strong beyond that door. Draco even heard, much to his surprise, her humming.

Draco huffed. "You'd think she lived here."

"Hm," Giselle purred delicately. "Well, you did make it quite inviting for her."

"Did I?" He asked as he watched his imagination stretch herself out on the chaise. Her body arched slightly, her lips curled upwards, her cheeks a natural blush, and her eyes –closed as she made herself comfortable –opened to a soft brown that pierced him.

"Yes, you did." She continued. "You gave her somewhere to sleep-"

"It was a chaise."

"-A lovely room to sleep in-"

"That she was banned from leaving."

"-You fed her-"

"The house elf fed her."

"-You made sure she was able to bathe-"

"What kind of person what I be if I didn't?"

"-And you gave her clothes to wear."

Draco angrily crossed his arms. "I don't see your point, Giselle."

"To paraphrase your words," she grinned as she sat up. "Your inn girl isn't a prisoner. You're letting her stay. And now she's freely enjoying her accommodations."

The word "accommodations" made his jaw clench viciously. "This isn't a bloody hotel. She knows that, and if for _one second_ she doesn't-"

"Malfoy?"

Draco sharply turned. There was the stare that he had been looking for when he had first entered the bedroom. Now that another set of brown eyes were on him, he felt uneasy, and from his periphery he could see that Giselle was gone.

"Polly!"

Polly the house elf appeared at his feet looking humble and ready to serve as most other house elves did. "How may Polly help Master Malfoy?"

"Where's that tea I told you to have ready when I returned?" Draco barked at him. Polly nodded.

"Right away, Master Malfoy. Polly will fetch it right away."

Polly was gone with a pop. Draco turned on his heel then to lightly brush pass Hermione, who was still giving him a quizzical look, and went into the bathroom. He stopped in the doorway, his eyes catching sight of clothes that didn't belong to him. When he looked behind him Hermione was there, rouge rising to her cheeks as she held out one hand, the other holding up a towel around her.

 _How the hell didn't I notice that she was naked?_

" _Clothes_ , Malfoy." Hermione said sternly. Draco was jostled from his thoughts and he scooped up the pile from the floor and roughly handed them to her. Her befuddled stare continued even after he had shut the door and her eyes flitted between it and the spot where she had red-handedly caught her captor talking to someone who wasn't there. It sent chills up her spine, awful memories to boot, but she tried her hardest not to think about it. Instead she quickly dried herself off, dressed, and sat on the chaise. Once she had Draco had reemerged just in time to see Polly appear with a small folding table that he opened in front of Hermione. A snap of his fingers later and a tray of two cups of warm tea was sitting atop of it.

Just before Polly left Hermione caught his eye and he smiled as he nodded to her. A happiness settled in her stomach when he was gone and she itched with anticipation once Draco sat down before her.

"How many Deatheaters are here tonight?"

"Same as last night." Draco replied honestly.

She frowned. Her eyes fell towards the tea, and she immediately began to think that she had spiked it too early. He'll be furious once he realized what she'd done to him. Too late to turn back now…

"So, I won't be leaving tonight then."

Draco shrugged. He honestly didn't know. He still had to take care of one major step, and once that was accomplished, it could be a matter of hours or, Merlin forbid, days. "Maybe, maybe not. I'll scope things out after a few hours. If it seems quiet enough I can get you out tonight.

'But regardless," he continued, taking his cup in his hands. "You've been a real pain in the arse to have as a roommate, Granger –no matter how short the time. Can't say I'm sad to see you go."

"I can."

Draco have her an incredulous look. "Seriously?"

"Sure." Hermione smiled some, trying her hardest not to stare at his tea. "It means that the next time I see you I can't hesitate to kill you. In fact, I might have signed my own death warrant by not doing it before."

Draco chuckled. "You probably have."

Hermione took her cup and raised it to her lips. She watched her companion as his cup reached his mouth. And then she heard it. The gentle gulps that signaled the drinking of his tea. She grinned behind her beverage and began to drink hers as well. She stopped after two large sips when she realized that it tasted...off. Her eyes grew wide and she dropped her cup. Draco hadn't dropped his, but he'd stopped drinking as well and he looked utterly enraged.

"You switched cups."

Hermione blinked rapidly at his accusation. "Excuse me?"

"Don't deny it." He snapped at her. "My tea tasted funny, Granger, so out with it."

Her eyes narrowed. "You put Veritaserum in my tea?!"

"Of course I did." He rattled off. "Did you really think I was going to let you out of here without first finding out what you had planned to do with me had you captured me? How did you know?"

"I didn't!"

"Bullocks! How did you know to switch cups then so I'd get the Veritaserum?"

"I didn't switch anything!" Hermione blurted out. She groaned angrily as the truth came out. "I had Polly put it in your tea!"

Draco gave her the blankest stare one could ever muster. "How? He's _my_ bloody house elf!'

"You gave me command over him when it concerns food, remember? I grabbed my potion that you _never gave back_ from your drawer and gave it to him. Told him it was an ingredient that I wanted to have put in your tea the next time you or I asked for some. Polly was only too happy to oblige after I added that it would make his master _very pleased_."

Draco's jaw dropped. He closed it in an attempt to speak several times and failed at every turn. When he finally spoke he couldn't believe what he was saying.

"I should be pissed at you to hell and back right now but...I'm not." His lips curled up into a smirk. "That was very sneaky of you, Granger. War has taught you a few things."

"War has taught me too many things." Hermione sighed then and crossed her arms over her chest. "What do we do now?"

"Have a bit of fun, of course." He replied as he pushed his tea away from him. "You have questions to ask me, I have some to ask you, so let's use this to our advantage. Ladies first,"

 _Well, this wasn't how I thought this would go, but if he insists…_

"Last night in your study, when Goyle talked about 'Weasley' being tortured…" Hermione held her breath for a moment, dreading the answer because she knew that she'd hate it no matter what. "Which one was it?"

"The twin,"

Hermione's eyes watered. "Is he still alive?"

"Barely,"

Her heart stopped at the word "barely" and she wanted to cry. She didn't though and cleared her throat to distract her from the stinging in her eyes. "I'm surprised you didn't kill him on the spot. Why isn't he dead? Why aren't I for that matter?"

"The Dark Lord wants him to tell us what he knows of the resistance. He wouldn't have been here if he didn't know something. As for you, I need you alive."

Her brows furrowed. "Why?"

Draco wanted to resist telling her this next bit. In fact he could. Being an Occlumens allowed him to do just that, but what else could he say? Playing the role of Deatheater would only make her want to kill him even more than she'd originally wanted to. The last thing he needed was a pissed off Granger on his hands. And so, he gave her all that he had to offer: the truth.

"The world lost hope when they found out you were dead. Now that I know you're alive, you need to stay that way. The resistance needs you back. The _world_ needs you back. The...the war can't end until you are."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. She knew he wasn't lying, and so she had to actually sit there, she _actually_ had to believe that he wanted the war to end. That he wanted Voldemort to lose.

"Do...do you know where the resistance is now?"

"No. The twin-"

"George,"

"What?"

"His name is George."

"Oh, well he said that he and the ones he was with were on their way to meet their ally when they bumped into me and the other Deatheaters. He knows where the resistance is."

"So you'll take me to him?"

"That's the plan. I want to talk to him myself first, though. You know, make sure I have a well-thought out way of getting you out instead of doing it half-cocked."

Hermione tilted her head slightly and smirked a little. "So you didn't have a well-thought out plan before you had this ally in your pocket? What was going to happen when my ankle healed otherwise, Malfoy?"

"You would've left the same way you came." Draco smiled. "Apparation. It was like I said when I was about to let you go in the hills. You were good at playing dead, and I was pretty sure you'd keep doing it. Is it my turn to ask questions now?"

"No, I have one more." Hermione casted her gaze to the floor because of what she was about to ask. Draco wasn't oblivious to her sudden hesitance and he already knew that he didn't want to answer whatever question she had. "When you asked about why I hesitated to kill you after I cut your cheek...did you really want me to do it? Did you really want me to kill you?"

 _I knew I'd hate this question._ And yet, he still didn't lie.

"Yes."

Hermione frowned. "You can ask questions now."

"Why didn't you kill me?"

"Because you hadn't hurt me. Those people I told you I killed? They're dead because they all attacked first. You'd done nothing but take care me and so I just couldn't do it. It felt wrong to do it."

"Ditch that logic and ditch it quickly, Granger." Draco said sternly. "It'll get you killed one day."

Hermione sighed. "Get on with the rest of your questions, Malfoy."

"That night when you tried to capture me, what were you going to do with me had you succeeded?"

"Capture, bound, and drug you with Veritaserum. I wanted to find out what you knew about the resistance."

Draco grinned. "Well, you have all the information you need about that now." His eyes landed on her hand that had been cut on glass just last night. He still couldn't get how she had looked out of his head, and that's why he asked a question that he knew would make her fidget in her seat. "Last night when you zoned out on me, what happened to you?"

Hermione had managed to bat away the tears from her eyes when they were talking about George, but now that they were talking about this? She couldn't help it. The tears flowed slowly, but steadily, and she finally voiced her insanity aloud.

"I hear and see Ron."

Draco stared at her blankly. " _You what?_ "

"I'm crazy, Malfoy." She admitted. "When Ron was taken away and I survived I was...I was alone. It started out innocently enough. It was just pretend. I'd make believe that he was still there, still helping me, still my best friend. But then he became more than just a voice in my head and I started to see him. And now," Hermione choked back a sob. "Now my manifestation of him can do things. He's been here. He searched your room. He found the glass and undid your charms. Or at least...that's what I had believed. I honestly didn't know that _I_ was holding the glass. That _I_ put it in my pocket. Malfoy, if I can't tell what I'm doing how can I ever trust myself? How can I ever know what's real?"

Draco sat before her with his mouth slightly agape. Not just because he was surprised at her confession, but also because he could relate to everything she had said. It also didn't help that the source of his own insanity had emerged again, taking back up her seat at the end of the chaise. He had to stifle his gasp, only now realizing how similar both Giselle and Hermione looked.

"You're not the only one who's crazy." Draco said softly.

He clearly hadn't meant for her to hear him, but she did, and now Hermione was staring at the same spot where he was. She recalled how she'd heard him talking from outside the bathroom door, only to find that he was alone. Even now no one was there, but the look on his face –that _very_ familiar, zoned out expression, proved what she suspected. She didn't ask who it was. She didn't even let on that she noticed. Hermione merely sat back and watched him mumble to himself about someone named Giselle.

* * *

Draco left Edinburgh Castle around two a.m. when he was sure that Hermione was asleep. He donned his cloak, pocketed his wand, and left his room. Soon he found himself in town and standing outside of the recently rebuilt pub. Well, rebuilt was a bit of an understatement. Part of the right wall still had a hole in it while the front window was boarded up. Andy owned the pub/inn and being a squib he had no magical means to fix it. Draco had the urge to be nice and help him, but he knew that would only cause an inquiry as to whether or not he was actually a squib.

Despite the destruction, Draco found the person who he had come to see and he smiled as he saw him downing a shot of something putrid.

"'Ello, Mr. Deatheater sir!" Georgie greeted him as he walked over. "Out a bit late, aren't ya? And without your friends."

"My friends are pricks and I didn't feel like digging into my liquor stash at home. Mind if I join you?"

"After you!"

Draco thanked him with a nod and sat down. Andy walked over with what he knew he'd want and then disappeared behind the counter again. Draco spent the next few minutes just drinking and staring. Georgie. He was old as hell. He had at least four teeth missing and the rest were two shades lighter than corn. His clothes were tattered, yet still well-maintained for a drunk. And he smelled. Well, not terribly. Draco assumed that Andy let him and the other permanent drunks shower in the back so as not to run out other customers. And _this_ was the resistance's contact?

Draco chuckled. He set down his empty glass, leaned forward in his seat and whispered, "Lemon drop 1998,"

Georgie had raised his recently refilled glass to his lips, but it stopped in its journey. He stared at Draco wide-eyed while the blond sat back in his seat, a smug look on his face, and his hands cupped on the table.

"I think you and I have something to discuss." Draco said calmly. "Don't we, Georgie?"

Georgie gulped. "Seems so,"

"Good then. Let's go."

Draco stood and waited for Georgie to stand. He did, tentatively, smiling at Andy before leading the way towards the back of the pub. They went past the stairs that led up to the rooms and soon down a small hallway that led outside. Once the door closed behind him Draco used his wand to lock it and then put up a Silencing Charm.

"Alright, let's talk –AH!" Draco yelled.

He had just been lifted off his feet and thrown into the wall of the pub with such a force he thought he would've gone through it. He looked up in time to see Georgie summon his wand to him and aim it straight at him.

"Just when I thought you were better than the rest of your lot." Georgie snarled at him. Draco opened his mouth to speak but he was being thrown again, this time up against the brick wall of the alley. He hit hard enough to rattle his head a bit so now he was seeing double.

"Georgie, wait. I-"

"'Wait' my arse,"

A flick of Draco's wand from Georgie's hand made him lift up from the floor and stick to the wall, a pair of brick handcuffs keeping him there.

"You killed him." Georgie accused. "George would _never_ give you that code word unless you tortured and killed him for it."

"Or," Draco said, looking over impressively at his wrists. "He told me the code because he trusted me as an ally."

" _An ally?_ Ha! I admit, I thought you were nothing like those other pricks, but there's _nothing_ you could've said or done to make him trust you. Now, I have to kill you."

Draco smiled at him. "You're not killing anyone. _Especially_ me,"

Draco flexed his fingers and his brick handcuffs disappeared. Georgie's mouth dropped into a small "o," but he snapped it shut as he whirled Draco's wand. A finger snap got Draco his wand back, and before Georgie could use his own bit of wandless magic on him, he repaid the impressive drunk trick for trick and bound him to the wall behind him. The only difference was that those cuffs enveloped his entire hands so as to prevent any wandless magic from him.

"Let me go!"

"Not until we talk." Draco said as he stowed his wand away. "Now listen to me, and listen to me good, Georgie. I didn't kill Weasley. He's still alive, but I don't know for how much longer." Georgie stopped struggling for just a moment as Draco continued. "He told me your code so that you would trust me. So that you'd know that I was on your side."

Georgie scoffed. "I still don't believe you."

"I figured you wouldn't. That's why I brought this."

Draco reached into his cloak and brought out a similar vial to the one that he had given George. This time he had already extracted his memories and shook it up in the potion. They had been re-categorized just before leaving so that he could include his conversation with the redhead.

"Open up."

Georgie eyed the vial warily. "What is it?"

"Not poison," Draco said as he uncorked it. "If I wanted to kill you there are easier ways than wasting my precious time in making a poisonous brew. Let's get this over with."

There were no other options for Georgie and he knew Draco would leave him cuffed to the wall if he didn't drink it. So, he reluctantly opened his mouth and let the potion swim down his throat. Draco and the alley disappeared from his sight immediately and he swore that he'd died. But soon there were images running across his vision. He saw Draco, a younger version of him, standing over a young girl –no, a young woman who had been beaten badly. She appeared to be dead, and upon further inspection, Georgie could see that it was Hermione Granger. The scene changed slightly and he could see Deatheaters taking someone away. Ron Weasley.

The scene changed completely then and he was standing in a large room of a house. Perhaps a mansion. A crowd of Deatheaters were there and surrounding Ron, including Lord Voldemort, who was the closest to Ron with his wand raised. Georgie was fully prepared to see his death, but instead Draco stepped forward, stopping Voldemort from killing him. He made another suggestion, one to make him a Deatheater instead. Draco had been tortured at the end of his words, but once he had explained (through gritted teeth as the pain of the Cruciatus Curse ran through him) how beautiful it would be for any enemy to see Ron with them, to have him torturing and killing his friends, to have him _betray_ them, Voldemort was smiling.

The next scene showed Draco standing in Ron's cell where said prisoner was bound in the corner and sneering. _"You can Imperius me all you want, but I'll fight it. I'll break it and I'll-"_

" _You won't be under the Imperius Curse long, Weasley." Draco told him, and Ron stared at him with a sincere expression of bewilderment._

" _What?"_

" _You heard what I said. This is just…it's a better alternative to being dead."_

 _Ron scoffed. "Why would you care about whether I'm alive or not?"_

 _Draco frowned. "Because Granger's not."_

 _Tears welled up in Ron's eyes immediately because he had seen it. He had witnessed the Deatheaters shoot curse after curse at her until finally she stopped fighting back and stopped moving altogether._

" _I_ _ **hate**_ _the Dark Lord, Weasley." Draco continued. "My actions may not prove it, but you do what you have to in order to survive. Besides, with you and your people out there I keep thinking that the war will end any day now. But…the resistance is dying. I can't let you die with it. I_ _ **have**_ _to put the Imperius Curse on you."_

 _Ron casted his gaze to the ground. He then stared at the binds that wrapped around his hands and feet. He then chuckled sadly, his tears finally falling. "I can't exactly stop you, now can I?"_

 _Draco looked down to the wand in his hand and sighed. "No, you can't."_

Various scenes passed from there. It was snapshots over the years of Draco as a Deatheater, helping any and every one he could when the opportunity presented itself. Georgie must've seen dozens upon dozens of instances like that, including almost two weeks ago when he was kind enough not to take advantage of that girl from the inn and make it look like he had. Then he saw Draco talking to someone in a hilly area. It was…it was Hermione Granger! She was very much alive, and hurt, and Draco had taken her in. She was with him in a bedroom –probably his –and he was making sure her ankle was okay. He made sure his house elf fed her. He didn't out her when he found her hiding behind his desk and his friends were also in the room. He spoke with George and the redhead did indeed give him their code word willingly and asked Draco to find his wife. Draco had agreed. And the last memory was of him and Hermione, where he told her that he'd get her back to the resistance. It was his promise.

When Georgie opened his eyes he found himself unbound from the wall and sitting on the ground. Draco was leaning against the wall next to him, and he looked down at him expectantly.

"Well?"

Georgie met his face and then he slowly smiled. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Malfoy."

Draco smiled back. "Likewise, Georgie. Likewise,"

* * *

 **Author's note:** It's Georgie! Kudos to **LightofEvolution** for guessing that it might be someone from the pub. Well done :). And Draco and Hermione finally managed to clear some of the air between them. Granted it took spiking each other's teas to do it, but oh well haha.

Hope that you guys liked the chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Until next time,

-WP


	11. Insanity

Hermione spent three more days in Draco's bedroom. Each day was spent in agitation as the next step in getting her back to her friends was revealed. For one thing, drunks made _very_ good disguises.

Three days ago Hermione woke up to a fresh pot of tea as well as breakfast. While that was nothing new, what surprised her most was the fact that Draco was the one carrying the tray. Their makeshift table was set before her and he had taken a seat.

"We've got some talking to do."

That "talking" was very much one-sided as Hermione ate most of the meal that was meant to be shared and Draco explained what had happened in the wee hours of the night while she slept. Apparently, one of the drunks whom she had passed that morning she had left the inn was the resistance's contact in Edinburgh. George and the others were on their way to the pub to meet him when they had bumped into Draco and the other Deatheaters.

"Georgie thought that we all would've left by then." Draco told her, but obviously that hadn't been the case. Georgie was going to meet with them, put them up somewhere safe, and then wait for the right time to contact the resistance and formulate a plan. That time was always twice a week, Sundays and Thursdays, promptly at one a.m. Hermione recalled that it was a Wednesday night when Draco had come back to the room completely disheveled and bloody. But since that plan got shot down, not to mention the time to contact the resistance had past, the emergency plan got activated and Angelina Johnson –or Weasley, rather –was currently hiding out in an underground room under the pub thanks to Andy.

With Andy and Georgie's help plenty of refugees passed through Edinburgh unawares and so harboring Angelina was nothing new. She was waiting until Thursday so that Georgie could find out from the resistance the safest option to get her to them. That's what Hermione and Draco were waiting for too. It was the golden day. The day Hermione had been dreaming of for the past two years. Draco, on the other hand, appeared to be dreading it. Not because of the obvious suspicion Angelina would have at the sight of him, but at the horrible news that he would be bringing her.

George was dead.

He died on Monday. The day after all the Deatheaters knew that Gavin –the shoppe keeper Hermione had stolen the Veritaserum from –had been Imperiused. Gavin, quite fortunately and surprisingly, had been spared. Voldemort had been convinced that it had been a plan all along should any of the resistance members be captured. Imperius someone, falsely accuse said someone as their contact, so that way their true ally would be safe. He had also been convinced that it was Angelina to have done it. Had it not been for that belief, George wouldn't have said anything. He would have taken curse after curse had his wife not become even more of a target. And so he had admitted to putting the curse on Gavin. His wand had been checked and, indeed, it had been the one to do it.

Voldemort had snapped George's wand in half. Then George's neck. And ever since then, Hermione had been watching Draco's mental decline like a TV-channel she couldn't turn off. He spoke to himself more frequently. Actually, argued was more like it. And aside from discussing tidbits of the plan to get her out of the castle, he didn't talk to her. Although he had never encouraged her company before, he had never outright ignored her. Disbelievingly, she actually hated his silence. Especially because when he was quiet, Ron wasn't.

"You think he's drowning in there?"

Hermione didn't look, but instead inclined her ear to the sound of a shower that'd been running for the past half an hour. She sighed. Draco took long showers on purpose, she surmised. He took them late too, probably with the hope that she would be asleep by the time he came out. She glanced at a magnificent clock that hung just above one of the night tables. It was almost one a.m. One a.m. Wednesday. In a matter of hours she would be leaving Edinburgh Castle and seeing Angelina for the first time in, not two, but three years –since a few months after the battle of Hogwarts actually. She would wait in the underground hideout with her until it was one a.m. Thursday morning. After that they'd be on their way.

"Do you think they have kids?"

Hermione looked ahead of her. Ron was sitting at the end of the chaise, and she was wondering what she herself was actually doing. Was she, as she thought she was, sitting cross-legged on the upper end of the chaise? Or was she mimicking Ron's posture instead and sitting with her feet on the ground? She gulped.

"What?"

"My brother." Ron explained. "Do you think he and Angelina have kids?"

Hermione frowned and felt herself tremble. "I don't know. I...I hope not."

"I hope so."

"Why?"

"The kid would be too young to remember George, so no real harm done there. As for Angelina...she needs family."

Water welled up in Hermione's eyes at the thought of it. Her hands were shaking terribly now and she choked back a sob. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

A scoff met her words and she turned to find Draco in the bathroom's doorway, dried and already dressed for bed. "Talking to yourself, are you?"

Five words.

It was amazing how much anger could be incited from such a few amount of words. But maybe she was overreacting? Maybe her gut reaction to get up, stomp over to the blond, and slap him was out of proportion to how she should be feeling? Instead she gently let her head go to one side as her eyes narrowed some.

"Excuse me?"

Draco heard it. The iciness in her tone that she was failing miserably to hide. As soon as he'd said those words he knew how it had sounded and how inconsiderate it made him out to be. And yet, strangely enough, he didn't care. He was too tired, too stressed, and too _plagued_ by Giselle and the images of George's neck twisted in ways that it shouldn't be to care. His lips rose in a snarl as he pestered the preying lioness while simultaneously digging his grave.

"I asked if you were talking to yourself."

Hermione felt her skin flush as her controlled rage neared the point of volatility. "I wasn't-"

"Stop." Draco interrupted with a raised hand and casually strolled across to his bed. "There's no need to lie. We've already established that you're a loony bint. Why continue to deny it?"

In that moment Hermione had no control over her limbs. All she knew was that she had stood from the chaise. A moment later she had walked over, stood right in front of Draco, and let go that slap she had been holding back. The sound deafened the room. The slap had even irritated the cut on his cheek to the point of a small red line of blood wanting to spill through, but stopping at the healed barrier of skin.

" _You_ _are the_ _ **last**_ _person to call_ _ **anyone**_ _a loony bint._ " She sneered at him. "Last time I checked, you were wandering around here talking and mumbling to someone named Giselle. So, unless she's a ghost, _Malfoy_ , you've got a couple screws loose up there just as much as I do."

Despite how hard the slap was, it wasn't until she'd said Giselle's name that Draco's eyes grew hard and cold. He grabbed Hermione by the shoulders tightly and she regrettably squeaked in the process. They were nose to nose now, and although his rage was clear as day, there was also something else in his eyes. One could almost call it sadness.

" _Don't you_ _ **ever**_ _mention her name to me._ "

Hermione swallowed, but she wouldn't be intimidated. "Don't ever call me a loony bint."

Draco didn't answer. He was close enough to see her eyes –those dark brown eyes that always seemed to be wide and entrancing at the worst times. The inn, the hills, his room, and even now as he continued to hold her shoulders in a death grip. Banning her from saying Giselle's name wouldn't help. Hermione could very well be her sister with their many similarities. It was why he'd been avoiding her. Voldemort had killed George much in the same why he'd killed Giselle. To have his death so fresh in his mind and Giselle's twin in front of his face… It was screwing with him more than he thought it would.

"I won't." Draco finally answered, a terrible tease dripping off his next set of words. "Even if it is true."

Hermione's nostrils flared as she pushed Draco off of her. "Sod off!"

Draco stumbled back some, but he didn't fall. At first he felt sad as he watched in slow motion a head of frizzed, but still bouncy, curls move as she walked away. But it was in that instant that he remembered, that he realized, that this was _not_ Giselle. This angry witch's hair was at least two shades darker, her strides less graceful, and her rage very Granger-like. And it was this same witch whom the subject of his insanity said made him blush.

"Granger,"

Hermione felt her blood boil at the feel of his hand on her wrist.

"I said, sod off!" She yelled as she turned around to slap him again, but he caught her hand easy. The next thing she knew she was being harshly pushed against the wall and Draco's lips were eagerly on hers. Their tongues met hastily and quickly. His grip on her wrist was hard and tight, while the fingers of his other hand intertwined with hers near her head. It was painful for Hermione. Her intertwined hand was pressed into the wall and she felt the engravings against her flesh. The hold on her wrist was cutting off circulation, but she didn't dare complain. Every bite of her lip made her forget the abuse her hands were receiving. And when his mouth moved from hers and latched onto her skin just above her throat and along the side of her neck, it made her ignore the fact that his nails were digging into the back of her hand.

And just like that he let her hands go, placing his on her hips and preferring to dig his nails into her there instead. Hermione couldn't help the grunt of pain that she emitted, and that only seemed to spur Draco on further. He pressed his body onto her this time, never once lifting his lips from her neck, biting when he wanted, licking where he wanted, and listening for those hideous words that would make him stop if she wanted. And when they didn't come, Draco kissed further down. Over her collarbone, across the fabric that covered her stomach, and soon enough he was dropping to his knees which caused Hermione's eyes to open wide.

"What are you doing?"

"Tell me to stop."

"I… You…" Hermione couldn't find her words. She stared down at him, their position in one of the most erotic she could imagine, and honestly couldn't find a single thing to say although he had just given her the words. "This is _crazy_."

"We're not crazy." Draco told her, his hands slowly travelling up the sides of her legs. "We're just a bit unhinged."

Unhinged.

Crazy.

They were the same thing as far as Hermione was concerned. And as she closed her eyes, resting her head against the wall and feeling her heart accelerate to dangerous speeds, she couldn't believe what he was doing. What she was _allowing_ him to do. A Deatheater, of all people. _Draco_ _ **Malfoy**_ , of all people. She was more than unhinged. She was criminally insane.

* * *

Draco didn't sleep with her, but he sure as hell felt like he had. They were positioned on the wall for Merlin knows how long until Hermione's knees buckled and she slid down to the floor. Draco went down with her and he resumed pleasuring her where they lay. Her moans alone were like sex to him, and _that_ was saying something.

And now here they were. Draco couldn't, in any good conscience, let her sleep on the chaise anymore, and so she was sharing his bed. It was late and he was tired, but not because he wanted to sleep. He was still under the covers, though, with his gaze steady and firm on the ceiling. Hermione was lying _on top_ of the covers, her own gaze steady and firm ahead of her. An empty glass that had only moments ago been filled with water was sitting next to her on the night table. She had called Polly for it after their "escapades" had calmed down, claiming, with a horrible reddening of her cheeks, that her throat was dry.

"Granger?"

Hermione was startled by his sudden voice in the densely quiet room. She glanced over at him, but he still wasn't looking at her. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry for calling you a loony bint."

"...And I'm sorry for mentioning _her_." She replied as she began to fiddle nervously with a strand of her hair. "And I'm sorry for asking now, but...could you at the very least tell me who she was?"

Draco let out a long, deep breath. He knew that question was coming. He'd said her name too many times and caught Hermione staring at him too often after one of his outbursts. And he was sure, embarrassingly sure, that he'd said Giselle's name at least twice during their encounter although he thought he had separated them in his mind. Either it had been too low for Hermione to hear or she was choosing to ignore it.

"A former prisoner,"

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. "Is it too much to hope for that she escaped?"

Draco let go a low chuckle. "Yes, it is." He sighed and finally looked at her. No, she was definitely no Giselle, and the fact that it was _her_ to make him feel all out of sorts was something he couldn't even fathom. "You remind me of her."

Hermione hid her frown. "I figured. You...said her name a few times-"

 _Bollocks._

"-but not while you were kissing me."

Draco nodded, but more to himself rather than to her. "Sounds about right. Your lips…" he swallowed deeply. "Are quite different than hers." From his periphery he could see a slump in the brunette's shoulders, but he quickly shot his hand out for her wrist. "But that's not a bad thing. That's _definitely_ not a bad thing."

Hermione stared down at her wrist. Draco held it, but not her hand. When he had kissed her, it wasn't as slow and sensual as the other two times before. And although he hadn't been exactly careless with his movements when they were against the wall and then the floor, he hadn't been quite gentle either. It was clear to her that he was shying away, quite actively, from true intimacy. Not that she desired it. Their situation was complicated, to put it mildly. They weren't in a relationship. They didn't even like each other, although they did tolerate one another because of their predicament. And although Hermione doubted anything like this would ever happen again, she was certain that intimacy would always elude them until Draco could properly put the dividing line between her and Giselle.

"Granger," Draco said again. She brought her eyes from her wrist and to his face. When she had she was completely taken aback by the set of emotions so rarely ever gracing his features. Was it worry? Fear? Regret? It was hard to tell seeing as his face had only ever allowed smirks, sneers, and anger to call it home.

Draco gulped once and said, "Considering that today may be the last time I see you unless it's out on a battlefield...please don't forget what I'm like. Don't...don't let what you see make you forget that I don't want to be there. With every spell, curse, or hex I cast, I won't be trying very hard to hurt you. Any of you."

Hermione fought every urge she had to throw her arms around the wizard and never let go. _So much for intimacy._ Instead she released her own gulp and nodded. "As long as you remember that I don't hate you and that I'm not trying to hurt you either."

"Thank you."

Silence fell. They both continued to lay there with Draco's hand still on her wrist. Although there were social cues that indicated their conversation was over the uneasiness in the air said otherwise.

"I need you to promise me something." Draco told her. "If it comes down to it, if both sides are watching and there's no way out...I need you to kill me."

Hermione's mouth dropped. "What?"

"You need to kill me." He repeated. "Turn your wand on me and kill me right then and there."

"Malfoy, no." She said as she took back her hand and began crossing her arms out in front of her as well as shaking her head. "I couldn't. I won't! How could you even ask me that? Get me to promise something like that?"

"Because I'd rather die by your hand than anyone else's." Draco replied flatly. "If any Deatheater, or worse the Dark Lord, sees any hesitation on your part it'll be suspicious. I'll be dead within a week after merciless torturing. If your friends get their claws on me I'm dead just the same, only faster."

Hermione cringed. "My friends wouldn't do that to you. Interrogate you, sure, but to kill you outright they-"

"You haven't seen your friends in a while." He cut her off with a serious tone. "They don't give a rat's arse about a Deatheater's life or anyone who associates with them." Draco's thoughts went over to Hestia and he frowned. "As well they shouldn't." A sigh came next as he pushed his comforter from off of him and crawled on the bed so that he was sitting in front of her. "You have to do it." He placed firm hands on her shoulders, much like he'd done earlier except more gentle. "Promise me."

"Malfoy, I can't-"

"Promise me, right now!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"I said no!" Hermione threw Draco's hands off of her then and stared at him angrily. "I am _not_ going to kill you! Neither side is! And do you want to know why? You've been faking loyal Deatheater for years and, so I've been told by a certain blond pest, I'm pretty good at playing dead. We're the best damn actors out there and we will get through this without having to kill each other."

Draco stared at her in disbelief and let out a loud groan accompanied with a pull of his hair. "How can you be this naive? This is a bloody war!"

"I know that! Call me crazy because, well hell, I already am, but I _want_ to be naive! I'm mentally unstable, tip-toeing on the shore of paranoia, afraid and on edge all the time, and you're the first glimmer of hope I've had since this war started and I am _not_ losing you!"

Draco blinked. Hermione's skin flushed as her fit died down and she replayed her words in her mind, but she didn't regret saying them nor was she embarrassed. She was a fighter. She never gave up, but that didn't mean she wasn't scared or had her doubts. But Draco... Knowing that he was fighting from the inside made her feel like they could really win. That it was more than a hope and a faraway dream. She'd be damned to lose that.

"Well," Draco chuckled although his throat and mouth had gone incredibly dry. "I never thought I'd hear you say something like that about me."

Hermione shrugged. "It's the truth. We need you to win this thing. I can't let you die."

Draco fought the tugging of his mouth downwards. _We? I? Which one did she mean? Did it even matter?_

"At least promise to kill me before the Dark Lord gets to me. Can you do that?"

"...I'll bind and kidnap you in full view of everyone." Hermione countered. "And I'll make sure my friends don't hurt you. Deal?"

Draco looked down at her extended hand. She was a stubborn witch, and he knew that well. With that said, he knew that this was the best deal that he'd ever get from her. And so he took it, giving her a hearty shake as he stared into her eyes. Those eyes that he now found to be a shade lighter than Giselle's when hit with bright light.

"Deal,"

* * *

 **Author's note** : *ducks behind wall* Don't hate me over George! His death was planned the moment he got captured. Yes, I'm one of those authors who kills characters.

As for Draco and Hermione, well, that only took 11 chapters! Including one "crazy" argument to start it all off. Actually that's my favorite fight of theirs. Aside from that, Draco's request really hit me hard in the gut –not to mention Hermione's unwillingness to give him up (take that however you like :).

Let me know your thoughts!

-WP

 **P.S.** There's a guest review that I really wanted to reply to, and figured I'd make a general note :). I know some (probably most, if not all) of you were eagerly waiting for something more intimate between Draco and Hermione. Sorry (and sort of not sorry) for the wait. Their romance is a bit of a slow burn in this story, if you haven't noticed already :).

As for the story itself, it's going to be pretty long. I'm currently writing chapter 27, each chapter an average of 4,000 words, and I still have SO MUCH to include. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if it hit 40 chapters. It's a war story with an insane plotline (pun wasn't intended, but I'm smiling anyway haha) and a lot of detail to get through. With that said, Draco and Hermione's love story will blossom at a somewhat "leisurely" pace with intimacy sprinkled in between. Hope you stick with me/with the story during the long ride!

Thanks everyone!


	12. Distractions

"Do you seriously go to the pub every night?" Fiona asked as she followed Draco, Blaise, Theo, Pansy, and Goyle through the street and into the drinking establishment.

"It's either get drunk here or back at the castle." Theo commented. "At least here I'm guaranteed at least one shag. You and Pansy are horrible to bed when you're drunk."

Fiona's face grew beet red and she huffed loudly. "Well, don't expect me to heal your splinched arse when we get back."

"That's what I've got this for." He smiled as he held out a small coin.

Pansy cocked a brow as Theo gave the coin a flip in the air before dipping it back into his pocket. "That's for long distance apparating, you know."

"True, but what the Dark Lord doesn't know won't hurt him."

"Yeah, but what you _think_ he doesn't know just may hurt _you_."

"Whatever," Theo rolled his eyes. "Let's just get drunk already."

The group trudged forward while Draco lingered in the back. He was his calm, cool, calculated self as always –on the outside. On the inside his heart was hammering dangerously to the point of it feeling extremely uncomfortable. There was a small hand on his back as he continued to walk forward and every now and again his back was being rubbed in small circles to ease the tension in his shoulders.

Draco was used to being around these people on a regular basis. It should be Hermione to be having these panic attacks, not him. But maybe she was. She was under a Chameleon Charm and so he couldn't see her. Despite the advantages, this also added to his uneasiness. He only knew where she was because he could feel her at his back. From the moment they had left his bedroom, and soon after joined the others, Draco kept throwing out scenarios of what he would do if someone had accidentally run into Hermione's invisible, yet solid form. What would happen then?

Luckily that didn't happen. Draco's heart had stopped momentarily when they all apparated because he was afraid that she hadn't latched onto him and was stuck in the hills. That's when he had first felt her hand on his back. It had comforted him, and he could feel the stress (although not much of it) release from him. The stress had hit him ten-fold though when he had branched off with Pansy to patrol. He knew that Hermione hadn't left his side and felt her side-apparate along with him to Merchiston, Sighthill, and Corstorphine. That meant that she had to bear witness to the three people they had stopped to see their identification and the few hexes initiated by Pansy and then Draco (regrettably). He imagined that's what prompted the brunette behind him to begin massaging his back rather than just putting her hand there. Anything to let him know that she was okay and that she didn't think less of him. That was how he had interpreted it anyway.

And now they were all walking through the threshold into the pub that had finally managed to take care of that boarded up front window. Said boards were now being used to cover the hole in the right wall. As the rest of the group headed to their reserved booth, Draco caught Georgie's eye. The old man who was the true definition of "I'm not as drunk as a I look" gave him the subtlest of nods, stood, and made his way to Andy's back room with a faked wobble in his step. Draco now realized that the bathroom Georgie and the other drunks were allowed to use for their showers was in a prime location. That location allowed Georgie to ever discretely shuffle to the left and head directly into Andy's back room.

Draco turned his gaze to the four Deatheaters who had already taken their seats. He was thanking Merlin that Adrian and Marcus had gone back home. Fiona, on the other hand, had made the request to permanently stay in Edinburgh. She wanted to "redeem" herself for her failures with Gavin and thought no better place to do it than here, under the leadership of Draco. The blond had to hold back a derisive snort just at the replay of her words.

"Order me a drink." Draco addressed them. "I'll be back."

"Where are you going?"

Draco rounded on Blaise with a growl. "To the loo, got a problem with that?"

"Testy, testy," Blaise grinned. "Hurry up with your piss then. The next round is on you!"

Draco ignored him and instead focused on Hermione's hand. He walked carefully past other pub patrons, tables, and pushed out chairs in order to make it to the bathrooms. Although the ones for the drunks was well-placed, the ones for patrons were a little less so. They were along the same small corridor that Georgie went except, while the private bathroom was directly at the end of that corridor, under the archway that led deeper into the establishment, the public bathrooms were just before that archway, directly opposite Andy's bartable. Draco would have to cut clearly past the restrooms and into a place he had no business being.

Hermione's hand suddenly gripped the back of his shirt. Draco would've whirled around violently had she not steadied him with her other hand. Instead, his turn was less abrupt than it would've seemed, and accompanied with a true, curious expression, his movements would be categorized as genuine. As he turned, he hadn't expected to see Old Man Manny and Dotty going at it in the corner of the pub. The whole place was in an uproar at the scene, including the Deatheaters he'd left sitting at the booth. Draco turned to find Andy staring at him, urging him with his head to get a move on, which he did, and unnoticeably slipped himself into the back room where Georgie was waiting.

"Dotty, Old Man Manny...they're in on this too?" Draco asked once the door closed behind him. Georgie shook his head.

"No, those two really are drunk fools. They just needed a little _persuadin'_ is all." He smiled with hand curled and a gentle wave as though he was holding a wand. Draco smiled back as let Hermione's wand appear in his hand. He looked around him for her although he knew it would be futile.

"Granger?"

Hermione didn't answer him. She merely slid her wand from between his fingers and reversed the Chameleon Charm. When she was visible again, it clear that Draco was relieved. When she lay her eyes on Georgie, the clearly sober drunk, he stood with his mouth agape, eyes wide and perhaps a little wet.

"Flies are going to get into your mouth, Georgie." Draco mocked. Georgie snapped it shut, but he still looked like he wanted to shed tears of joy. Eventually he did shake his head a little and soon presented his hand to her.

"It's an honor, a true _honor_ to meet you Miss Granger."

Hermione took his hand and shook it, her own smile adorning her features. "The honor's mine, Georgie. Thank you for helping me to get back to my friends. And please, call me Hermione."

Georgie's eyes lit up. "Of course! Of course! It would be a pleasure-"

"Hey," Draco interrupted. "We might want to speed things along here. It doesn't take that long for a guy to piss and they'll start wondering about me soon."

"Malfoy's right." Hermione agreed. "That fight out there won't be distracting anyone for much longer."

"Then let's go." Georgie nodded and headed to a closet towards the back wall. "If I could borrow one of your wands, please?"

Hermione eagerly gave him hers and he seemed over the moon about holding _the_ Hermione Granger's wand. Draco watched the various taps that Georgie made and suddenly began to think of the witch waiting below this secret hidey-hole and her reaction to seeing him.

"Don't worry, Malfoy." Georgie said with a goofy grin. "Angelina doesn't have a wand. Your bollocks are safe."

"She doesn't need a wand for that." Draco replied, instinctively positioning his body away from possible danger as the three of them descended the previously concealed stairs.

Despite the small opening, the underground hideout was massive. Draco stared wide-eyed at what was under here and wouldn't have imagined that it existed. They'd walked straight into a cave, but massive enough to hold six beds, and a sink, shower, and toilet on one side that could be hidden by a curtain. On one of those beds lay a dark-skinned young woman who looked like death had just knocked on her door and said that it was time for her to go. She hadn't even heard them come in. Georgie opened his mouth to address her, but Hermione beat him to the punch.

"Angelina?"

Angelina turned her head and her eyes nearly shot out of her head. She swung her feet off of the bed and stood, completely ignoring Georgie and possibly not seeing Draco at all. "Oh my… I… When Georgie said… I didn't think… I thought he was just drunk off his arse."

Georgie rolled his eyes and grumbled. "For Merlin's sake, it's just an _act_ -"

"Give me your hand." Angelina said suddenly. Draco stared with a slacked jaw at the dagger she had pulled out from somewhere. His eyes drifted to Hermione who willingly gave the witch her hand and was subsequently pricked in the finger. Blood trickled out and landed in tiny droplets onto the ground. "I need a wand." She announced, and Hermione quickly took hers from Georgie and handed it to her.

A spell that Draco had never heard of left Angelina's lips as she pointed Hermione's wand towards the blood on the ground. The blood caught fire somehow, and its tiny flames were bright green. They continued to burn and until they fizzled out some seconds later. Draco soon heard a clatter, Hermione's wand dropping from Angelina's hand as the two women embraced in a back-breaking hug.

"It _is_ you!" Angelina exclaimed. Tears were running down her face as well as Hermione's. "I thought you were dead! We all did! Oh, Hermione if we had known we would've-"

"No, no, don't even say it!" Hermione cried into her shoulder. "It doesn't matter now. We're both here and we're going to find the others. We-"

Draco cleared his throat. He was sure that his extended absence had been noticed by now and he really had to get out of there. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I've got to-"

"Angelina, don't!" Hermione shouted, but the woman had already scooped up the fallen wand and turned it on Draco. He deflected her spell easily, having fully expected the witch to attack him the moment she saw him.

Angelina readied another spell, but Hermione jumped in her line of fire with her arms out. "Angelina, please! Don't hurt him!"

"Are you mad?! _No_ , you're Imperiused, aren't you?!" She turned her accusing eyes onto Draco. "You Imperiused her!"

"I'm not!" Hermione argued as she stole her attention. "I _swear_ I'm not. You can check me if you want, but, please, just don't hurt him. I wouldn't have found you were it not for him. Worse off, I could be dead."

Angelina didn't lower Hermione's wand. She eyed her, Draco, and Georgie respectively before turning the wand on Draco yet again. "Legilimens!"

Occlumency skills were great, but it was damn near impossible to have a well-erected wall around your memories at the drop of a hat. Angelina's spell was that hat. Draco was able to push the witch out rather quickly, but she had maneuvered through his mind with an expertise that was bloody brilliant. It was only a few short seconds –three at most –but Angelina had managed to see him caring for Hermione's ankle, him watching his Deatheater teammates get their arses kicked back in Gavin's shoppe, him and Hermione having tea and something to eat while discussing plans of escape, and, unfortunately, a clear view of him capturing Hermione's lips in a deep kiss after they had slid down his bedroom wall and her fingers tangling themselves in his hair.

Hermione had no clue what Angelina had seen in those few seconds, but not only had she lowered the wand, but her gaze kept jetting between her and Draco repeatedly. Not to mention Draco was doing his hardest to look everywhere except at the questioning woman before him.

Hermione coughed lightly and held out her hand. "Can I have my wand now, Angelina?"

"Huh? Oh! Right, yes, of course… Uh… Malfoy?" She swallowed as he finally managed to look in her direction. "Um...thanks for keeping her safe."

Draco nodded, but didn't say anything. He merely turned to Hermione and took a deep breath. "I've got to head back. Remember what I said, Granger. _And_ what you promised."

Hermione couldn't believe it. She actually felt...sad that they were saying goodbye. Truth be told there was no guarantee that they would ever see each other again. Quite honestly, either or both of them could be dead tomorrow. And so she gave her own nod and grudgingly added, "I will."

"Okay. Georgie," Draco addressed him. "Make sure they get back to their people safely. Don't make me have to punch your teeth out."

Georgie grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it, Malfoy. Besides, I'm quite fond of these three rotten ones." He pointed to one on top and two on the bottom. Draco couldn't help but laugh and then shake his head at him before clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Be careful."

"You too."

Draco gave one last look at the two women in the room –Hermione the longest. His stare made her skin flush and soon after that he was gone.

"Hermione,"

"Yes, Angelina."

"How long was Malfoy protecting you?"

"A week,"

"And...what I saw in his head-"

Hermione's cheeks tinged.

"-that was _consensual_?"

Hermione pointedly ignored the stare Georgie was giving her and instead turned her full attention to Angelina. "I'd really rather not talk about that. Besides, we have more important matters to discuss." She sighed and soon began wringing her hands terribly. "It's...it's about George."

"I know." Angelina frowned, her eyes instantly watering at the mention of his name. She began digging around in her pocket for something and when she found it, she gave it to Hermione. "This came back."

In Hermione's hand was a coin. A very familiar coin that she had been afraid she'd lost two years ago. Back during Dumbledore's Army, they had used coins under a Protean Charm in order to communicate with each other. The same idea was adopted when the war began, albeit with a few changes. For one thing, all the coins were master coins so that everyone who had one could send out a message. Second, the coins were all personalized and registered to one user. With that came with the ingenious ability to send a message to just one person or a few persons instead of the entire Order. That personalization involved a bit blood shedding, and said shedding enabled each coin to return to a designated "next of kin" (for lack of a better word) in the event of the user's death so no Deatheater or Snatcher could have them and read whatever coded message was embedded.

That's why Hermione had been horrified when she couldn't find her coin after waking up in a world of pain in an abandoned battlefield. She hadn't been killed, and so her coin had to have gotten lost somewhere along the way. And if her heart truly had stopped beating, even for just a second, a death was a death, and her coin would have gone straight to Ron. But thankfully (however strange it was to say) he was dead, and with his death, the coin's magic would die too.

"We can re-register it for your use once we get back to the others."

Hermione rolled the coin between her fingers, frowning bitterly at the fact that George would never hold it again. A tear rolled down her cheeks as a shudder escaped her. "No. I mean...I couldn't possibly-"

"You have to." Angelina said sternly. "That coin didn't make up who George was. It was just something that he carried. Now that he's gone...well, it won't do him much good, now will it?"

There was a chuckle at the end of her words, but all Hermione heard was sadness. She pocketed the coin and then took Angelina into yet another hug. They stayed like that for a while, just silently crying into each other's shoulders. Georgie held back, giving them their moment, before politely excusing himself to continue playing the role of the drunk.

* * *

By the time Draco made it back to his table the fight had ended, the patrons had gotten less rowdy, and his friends were going shot for shot with each other. If they had noticed that he had been gone for a long time, it surely didn't matter now. They were all well on their way to getting knockered and soon this night would be nothing but a black dot on their memory. Draco smiled and gave a slight nod to Andy who was ready to walk over with more liquor.

When the night was over, Draco found himself, surprisingly, the only one sober enough to apparate them all back to Edinburgh Castle. Theo had selfishly used his coin to get back to the castle on his own and left Draco to do all the work. Once everyone had gotten to the castle, he had merely pointed them in the direction of their bedrooms and let them wander on their own. Everyone except for Fiona that is. He'd never really seen her drink before -much less as much as she'd consumed -and she turned out to be a clingy drunk. Draco huffed viciously at having to travel with the girl's arms wrapped around him until they made it to her bedroom.

 _Merlin, she's worse than Pansy!_

"Whoops!" Fiona giggled as she lost her footing and she and Draco nearly tumbled to the floor. Luckily he was able to keep them from hitting the carpet and he practically dragged her to her bed. "You...you owe me SO much, Draco."

Draco side-glanced at her with an arched brow. "For what exactly?" They had made it to the bed and he threw her onto it. "I believe it was me just now doing all the heavy lifting."

Fiona laughed again. She was laying on her back and staring up at the ceiling with a dazed and completely enamored look. "Not for _now_ you nitwit!" She attempted to sit up several times before giving up and crashing back down again. "The pub!"

Draco stiffened. "The pub?"

Fiona nodded against the mattress and tried to sit up again. Draco helped this time and grabbed her wrists, making sure to tug her a little every time she started to fall back. "I hate to drink. You turn into an _idiot_ when you do, but you! You were taking so bloody LONG! And the fight was over! They were wondering about you and I-"

" _Fiona_ ," Draco said firmly, the sound of blood rushing to his ears very prominent. "I need you to focus now. I need you to calmly and plainly explain what you're talking about."

Fiona frowned then proceeded to whine. "Do I have to?"

"FIONA!"

"Oh, there's no need to shout!" Fiona fussed as she wrenched her hands away from him and began smacking his away. "I distracted them for you!" She smiled then and then brought a finger to her lips. "Shh! It's a secret…"

With that Fiona's eyes fluttered shut and she collapsed back onto the bed. Draco continued to stand there, his mind trying to process everything this incredibly drunk girl had just said to him.

 _I distracted them for you!_

The drinking.

The fight.

Georgie knew about that fight.

Did this mean Georgie had a Deatheater on the inside this whole time? And he never thought to mention that to Draco just _once_ , but had managed to tell _her_ about _him?_

Draco huffed. Looked like Georgie was going to lose his favorite teeth after all.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Twists, twists, and more twists! That's all I have to say about this. And of course, if you haven't figured it out by now, nothing is ever as it seems with this story ;)

-WP


	13. Explanations & Plans

Sirius' mirror had been destroyed when Aberforth's place had been ransacked, but with a bit of tinkering the Order had managed to make other mirrors work just the same. One fourth of a mirror was with the resistance, the other was here in the hideout where Hermione and Angelina were, and two others were somewhere she'd yet to find out. While they waited until one a.m., the two women talked. Mostly it was about Hermione and how she had been fairing these past two years alone. The brunette neglected to mention that she had never truly felt alone seeing as her mental state had taken on a life of its own. Instead she cut Ron out altogether and spoke of how she tried to find the others. She told of her travels, her awful run-ins with Deatheaters and Snatchers, and finally what had been happening the moment she had step foot in Edinburgh. She tried not to notice the look of embarrassment on Angelina's face at the mention of Draco. She was just thankful that no questions pertaining to their wall-floor exploits had been asked.

As it finally neared one a.m. Hermione began fidgeting anxiously. Georgie was here again and he stood in front of the mirror, glancing at the clock intermittently. Angelina placed a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder and smiled.

"I'll talk to them first, alright?"

Hermione nodded. Soon after her heart began thundering beneath her chest at the sound of a very familiar voice.

"Good to see you, Georgie." Ginny said. "Did Angelina make it to you alright?"

Ginny's face and the upper half of her body was in the mirror, and although Hermione wasn't in the mirror's line of sight, she could still see the redhead clear as day. There was only one word that came to mind as she looked at her friend, and that word was "older." Ginny Weasley looked like she'd aged at least a decade rather than two years, but that's what war did to you, wasn't it? You were hit with a thousand experiences in such a short amount of time. If you were a child, it turned you an adult. And if you were an adult, it made you old, worn, and frail. Ginny was filled with wisdom, and Hermione could read it in the "get down to business" tone in her voice, the bags under her eyes, and the war wounds that adorned her revealed flesh.

"She did, thank Merlin." Georgie replied. "Gavin was able to get her here without anyone spotting her on Monday night."

"That's great! Is she nearby now? We have to finalize the plan to get her back to us."

"I'm here, Ginny." Angelina said as she came into the mirror. "But whatever plan you have we're going to have to modify it for a two-person trip."

Ginny's eyes lit up. "So my brother's not dead then? He made it out okay? Where is he?"

"Ginny," Angelina shook her head. She was fighting hard to hold back tears and took deep breaths to help. "George isn't… It's not him. There's someone else here with me –a resistance member."

The redhead's brows furrowed. "A resistance member? But all the ones who are supposed to be here are either here already or their whereabouts unknown. Who could possibly-?"

"Hi Ginny," Hermione said tentatively as she moved into her view. Ginny stood there wordlessly, her mouth hanging open, and her eyes the size of saucers.

"You…you can't be… You're dead!"

"The Deatheaters thought I was, and truth be told, I should be. But I made it. I…made it, Gin. And I've been trying to get back to you ever since, but you're a little too good at hiding." Hermione added in with a chuckle.

Ginny's eyes immediately grew wet, but she sucked back any tears that wanted to flow. Her lips pursed in a straight line and she ignored Hermione as she questioned Angelina. "Have you tested her?"

"Her blood checks out."

"Are you sure? It's a little too convenient if you ask me. We've been tricked before."

Hermione's ears perked up. "You've been tricked before?"

Ginny drifted her gaze to her. Her expression was a mix of wariness and happiness. "It wasn't until this past year that we truly began to believe you were dead. It didn't help that imposters of you kept cropping up over time. I…I want to believe you, but I just can't."

"It really is her." Georgie piped up as he looked at Hermione. "If it weren't then surely Ma-"

Hermione quickly, but subtly began to shake her head which shut Georgie up. The last thing Ginny needed to hear was that Draco had been the one to bring her there. That would certainly do more harm than good. Besides, she wouldn't have believed him anyway. Had Angelina not seen what she did in Draco's head, she would've hexed him into oblivion. And just like that an idea popped into Hermione's head.

"Veritaserum," She said. "The shoppe near the end of town run by that creepy owner, he has some. Break in and grab a bottle and I'll answer any-"

"How do you know Gavin has Veritaserum?" Georgie asked her. Hermione paused.

" _Gavin?_ That's his name? B-but you just said that Angelina was staying with him before she got here."

"I did and she was. He's an ally just like Andy and I are."

"The hell he is!" Hermione shouted. "He tried to kill me when I took the Veritaserum from his shoppe two weeks ago!"

Georgie tilted his head. "He tried to kill you?"

"Yes! And the _only_ reason he's still alive is because I didn't want anyone snooping. I obliviated him. It doesn't change the fact that he _tried_ _to kill me._ "

"To be fair, Hermione," Angelina said. "You _were_ robbing him."

"But he _saw_ me! He saw my face!"

"And you were supposed to be dead." Ginny interjected. "He probably thought the same thing we've all grown accustomed to thinking. That you were a fake. Georgie, you and Andy have Veritaserum there, don't you?"

"Just the one bottle. The batch Gavin's got cooking won't be ready for another week."

"Use it. I don't want to discuss anything until we're _absolutely_ sure." Ginny then turned to Hermione and frowned. "If it really is you, then I'm really sorry about this, but you have to understand-"

"There's no need, Gin." Hermione nodded. "This is war and you shouldn't be trusting anyone."

Ginny nodded back as Georgie went back upstairs, shortly to return with that bottle of Veritaserum. Although Hermione had agreed to taking it, she still felt a little apprehensive about it. Depending on what questions were asked so much could be revealed. Not only events that made her cheeks turn red, but also her imaginations about Ron.

The Veritaserum swam down her throat quickly. It tasted a lot more terrible when it wasn't mixed in with tea, but soon the taste passed. She was feeling a lot more relaxed and a lot more compliant, and after a few seconds had gone, Ginny proceeded with her questioning.

"What is your name?"

"Hermione Granger,"

"You were declared dead two years ago and my brother, Ron, went missing. What really happened?"

"Ron and I were tailing a Deatheater, but somehow he knew. He led us into a trap and we were ambushed. The fight was brutal. I was hit with innumerable curses and hexes –some I knew, others I didn't. I should have died. I was close to death. I probably did die because I couldn't find my coin after waking up several hours later. Ron was gone. I was alone. I crawled my way into a nearby cave and stayed there until I could move properly."

Ginny couldn't help but cry at her words. Angelina had already heard this story (and in a bit more detail), but Georgie hadn't and he looked positively mortified. It took a moment for Ginny to get her bearings, but she continued.

"And…and after you were better? What did you do? How did you get around these past two years?"

"I tried to find you. The Order. It was hard though. Aside from the fact that my body wasn't one hundred percent, our tactics for maneuvering and keeping hidden are immaculate. Without my coin I was forced to rely on whispers and, unfortunately, false leads. In the meantime I hid in the shadows and abandoned places, trying to keep news of my survival at bay so no one would come after me. Those same whispers led me here, to Edinburgh."

"How did you end up here with Georgie? Did he see you?"

"No, I-"

"Fiona," Georgie cut her off. He eyed the dark-skinned witch in the room and hoped that she would help him. She caught on quickly and followed him up.

"Fiona was just relocated to Edinburgh and she spotted Hermione. Took a bit of work but she managed to get her trust and got her here to us."

"Oh." Ginny replied with an unhappy expression. "Well, while I'm glad another ally is here, we really could've used her help elsewhere."

Georgie shrugged. "That's working for You-Know-Who for ya. Got to do to what you're told."

"Yes, I suppose." Ginny said with a resigned sigh. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"…I really can't wait to hg you."

Hermione smiled broadly. "Me too."

Her dear friend's dam of tears had finally fallen. With a few wipes of her eyes and the clearing of her throat they stopped soon enough and it was back to business. "Right, well, I guess I'd better get Dean over here. We've got plans to remodify."

* * *

When Fiona woke up the next morning she felt like she'd been hit in the head by the Cruciatus Curse. And then the worst thing ever happened: the blinds opened in her bedroom. Fiona groaned loudly as sunlight poured into the room and she turned her body in order to block out the bright glow. When she did she was aided by the shadow of someone's body. And yet while she was happy for the shade, she was also confused.

"Morning, sweetheart."

"Bloody hell, Malfoy!" Fiona shouted as she pulled her bedsheets up to her chest. "What are you doing in here? Oh, dear Merlin... Please don't tell me we slept together last night."

Draco's brows rose in true surprise. "I think you've just insulted me, Carrow."

"Oh please," Fiona half-groaned, half-grunted as she used a pillow to block the sun from her eyes. "As much as I'd hate to further inflate your ego, despite your immaculate good looks and rumors of your endowment, not everyone wants to rip your trousers off."

Draco chuckled and then smiled. "Well then, were it not for the matters that we have to discuss I would've loved to ask you why."

Fiona eased the pillow from her face. "What matters?"

"Excellent question! How about we ask Georgie and Andy what those matters are, shall we?"

The pillow was gone now and despite the kill-me-now headache and pressure behind her eyes, Fiona sat straight up and stared at Draco like Voldemort had just ordered her execution.

"No need to look so terrified." Draco said with an amused smirk as he placed a potion-filled goblet on the night table next to her. "I _am_ on your side after all."

Fiona eyed the goblet and then Draco warily. She picked it up after a few lingering seconds and slowly sipped it once she realized it was a Sobering Up Potion.

"You knew I was helping Granger, but you didn't approach me. Furthermore, neither Andy nor that drunk idiot thought to tell me about you. Why?"

"Don't look at me." Fiona said as she finished the potion. "I wanted to tell you, the others too but Gavin-"

Draco stared blankly. "I'm sorry, but _who?_ "

"Gavin, the one we ambushed? The attack that _you_ spearheaded? Yeah, well, he had a 'strong gut feeling' that you were the one to Imperius him and didn't trust you no matter what Georgie said. He would've pulled out if we told you and we need him."

"Need him for what exactly?"

"The escape routes." Fiona explained. "He helps guide people out of Edinburgh to a certain point and then they're on their own. Without him it would be a lot more difficult getting people out, so when he said not to tell you…"

"It was me or him, damn Gavin…" Draco sighed as he pulled up one of the chairs in the room and sat near Fiona's bed. "How did you even get roped into this? When?"

"I've never _not_ been involved." Fiona told him, and all at once her face had grown solemn as she bunched a part of her bedsheets in her hands and wrung it anxiously. "I… I had a boyfriend during our sixth year. Andrew Evans, Ravenclaw, and pureblood. Though pureblood or not, he still had a love of muggle things that even went pass Ginny's father's obsession. My mother would've never approved, but it didn't matter. I was at school and she wasn't. That is until seventh year… My mother had given Hestia and me a choice: either stay in school and be a good little Deatheater to be, or head out to the front line and prove our worth there. Hestia didn't return to school, but I did because I knew Andrew was going to. I wanted to protect him, and in turn he helped me...cope with the things my mother put me in charge to do.

'And then there was the Battle of Hogwarts." Fiona's eyes teared up. She sniffled, trying to pull back the tears, but Draco had a good feeling he knew how the rest of her tale would go. He'd never felt much for Fiona before, but he certainly did now, and so he frowned.

"You know as well as I do how chaotic that day was. Andrew found me somehow and we were going to run for it. We didn't get very far before my mother found us and she...she killed him. She killed him right in front of me. The castle was silent once he died, but it was only because everyone had just found out that Potter was dead. My mother gave me an ultimatum right then and there. She said she'd forget my treason if I got branded with the Mark that night."

Fiona scowled. Her wrangling of the sheets had turned vicious now –so much so that Draco thought she would rip them. He placed a hand over hers to stop her and she blinked. She almost seemed to have forgotten that she was talking to him and then she swallowed.

"I was going to tell her to piss off, Draco." She continued. "I really was, but then I thought about it. I _really_ thought about it, and I just knew that with Potter gone the Order was going to have hell-o-hell getting rid of the Dark Lord. I wanted to help, but that help needed to come from the inside. So, here I am."

"How did you get the resistance to trust you?" Draco asked as he removed his hand. Fiona chuckled.

"Legilimency, Veritaserum, and a few nasty Stinging Jinxes from Ginny. I've still got the scars."

Draco smirked, thinking of his own battle wound from the dangerous witch. "So, that fit you threw over not being in the team to hunt down Johnson…?"

"Weasley," she corrected. "And I just wanted to make sure that she was safe. Distract the others if I could. Although, thinking of that mess with Gavin I'm glad that I went with you. I honestly didn't think that he'd react like that. But then again I didn't know that he'd been Imperiused. I assume it really was you who did it?"

"That's an explanation for another time, Carrow. How do you and the others talk to each other? I doubt very much that you sneak out of the castle every night. Much too risky."

"A mirror. We all have a piece of a charmed mirror that we use on specific days."

"Well then," Draco sighed as he stood. "This was certainly more information than I expected to hear this morning."

Fiona watched him as he put back the chair he had been sitting on. Soon after she was pursing her lips. "Are you leaving?"

Draco's lips curled up. "Did you want me to stay? Have my _immaculate_ good looks finally broken down your walls?"

"Hardly," Fiona snorted. "It's just…well, we've talked about me, but we haven't discussed a single thing about you."

"Me?"

"Don't act stupid, Malfoy." She said sternly. "Your involvement isn't a secret anymore, and now that I know I can't help but wonder what your plans are for-"

"How good are you at Occlumency?" Draco interrupted. Fiona blinked rapidly at being cut off and at his question.

"I, well, not as good as I am at Legilimency."

"Then I'm not telling you anything." He said with finality. Fiona was ready to argue, but once again he stopped her. "The Dark Lord could find out anything he wanted if he ever decided to dig around inside your head. _You_ may be willing to get yourself killed while fighting on the side of Light, but _I_ am not." Draco paused, already regretting what he was about to say next, but he simply couldn't stop himself.

"Eleven p.m., my bedroom. Your Occlumency lessons start tonight."

* * *

It had been dark for a while now and in just under an hour Hermione and Angelina would be leaving Andy's hidey-hole. From where she lay, Hermione could see her companion flipping a coin up in the air. After talking for a bit she had asked why they didn't just use the coins to direct their way back to the Order. It would've sure cut out the middle man of having to go through others to reach their safe haven. But Angelina explained that the coins now had the added feature of being incapable of disclosing the Order's bases –through code or not.

"We got attacked by Snatchers that way once." Angelina had explained further, and so, for the moment, the coins were useless. Now they were both waiting until they would leave Andy's place and head to Gavin's shoppe towards the end of town. Hermione still had some reservations about going anywhere near him, but if her friends trusted him then she supposed she would have to do the same.

And so she waited, blinking more than necessary to keep the sleepiness she felt at bay. In the process she caught Angelina, yet again, peeking at her from her periphery. This wasn't the first time tonight that Hermione had spied her doing it, and to be honest? It grated on her nerves every time she saw her lips twisted up in a confused frown, brows pinched together, and picking at her cuticles as if to give her something to do.

Eventually Hermione couldn't take it anymore and she let out an exaggerated sigh. Couple that with how curt her words sounded and anyone would think that a certain blond pest had rubbed off on her.

"If that's how you 'discretely' stare at someone, it's a wonder how a Snatcher or Deatheater hadn't caught you long ago."

Angelina's eyes widened a little, but they shrunk back down after she blushed and stared at her cupped hands on her chest. "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry." Hermione sighed as she sat up. It was her turn to pick at her nails now and she figured that she'd might as well get this over with. "You want to talk about Malfoy, don't you?"

Angelina cocked her head some. "Is there more than what you already told me?"

"You know there is."

"Oh."

Both women fell into silence and it made Hermione itch. Angelina had sat up as well and soon they were both swinging their legs off the edge of their respective beds and looking at each other.

"Just… _how?_ " Angelina asked. "I understand that he saved your life and all and, I'm sorry for how this sounds, but from what I saw you were giving him one hell of a thank you."

 _ **He**_ _was the one doing the giving._ Hermione thought to herself, and she severely hoped that her cheeks hadn't tinged with the confession.

"Well, you know what they say about leaving a man and a woman together for extended periods of time…" She weakly explained with an added chuckle. She then took a deep breath and sighed. "I really don't have the words to explain it to you. It just…happened. And despite whatever it is that you saw, we _did not_ sleep together. I don't care how good he was to me; I could never do that."

"Good. Because no matter how good he was to you, Malfoy's still a Deatheater."

 _Malfoy's still a Deatheater._

Hermione didn't know why, but those words struck her hard. No, she hadn't forgotten that he was, but somehow in the past few days since Draco's Veritaserum-forced confession that side of him had been considerably blurred. She had always known that he had been a bit "off" compared to other Deatheaters. But now? Now she knew that he was right off the wagon. But even then she knew where Angelina was coming from. Draco was meticulous. A devious snake and worthy of Slytherin House. Sure he had been under a truth potion. But what if what he'd said was indeed true, but with a mischievous purpose? What if (and she couldn't really be sure) he was an Occlumens and only told her what she had wanted to hear? What if all this was some elaborate ruse in order to figure out where the resistance was? He was already halfway there since he had Georgie and Andy's trust. It wouldn't take long to use them to his advantage, now would it?

The sound of something big and heavy falling hit the women's ears and Hermione and Angelina immediately rose to their feet, one wand drawn and fists raised, ready to fight. What they saw were the unconscious bodies of a man and a woman at the foot of the stairs. Following them were footsteps which in the end belonged to Georgie.

"It's time to go." He said as he pulled out two glasses filled with a thick, lumpy liquid. Angelina nodded while Hermione already felt the bile coming up into her throat. It had been a while since she'd last taken a Polyjuice Potion, but she could still taste how horrible Millicent Bulstrode was. The Ministry worker she had impersonated back with Harry and Ron hadn't tasted nearly as awful, but it was still something that she had rather not remember. Now here she was, picking a hair off the woman after she'd flipped George's coin for and chugging down a vile-looking neon green brew.

"Alright, so Gavin's shoppe is closed now," Georgie was telling them with his back turned so they could dress in private. "But that doesn't mean someone won't be there."

Angelina nodded. "Got it."

"You're also heading out of here as two Snatchers." He continued. "It can't be helped if another Snatcher talks to you. Merlin forbid a Deatheater. If that happens, and you can't outtalk them you…?"

"Stun him or her, memory wipe, hide them from sight." Hermione answered as she slipped her Snatcher's shirt over her head.

"But only if…?"

"More drastic measures aren't needed."

"Right." Georgie said once he was given the okay to turn around. He nearly grimaced at the unrecognizable faces, but soon relaxed himself. He then handed them each a wand. "Make sure to leave these with Gavin before you split ways." Both women nodded and Georgie sighed. "Be…be careful you two. Next time I talk to Ginny I want to see the both of you in that mirror, alright?"

Angelina smiled and pulled him into a hug. "We will, Georgie. We promise."

She pulled away and next it was Hermione's turn. She probably hugged him a little longer than necessary, but she had to. When she finally pulled away she had tears in her foreign eyes. "Thank you for helping me get back to my friends."

"It's my pleasure." Georgie smiled. "Now go on."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, now you know about Fiona! Might I say that my favorite line out of this whole chapter is about Draco being "insulted" about Fiona not wanting to sleep with him hahaha. The next chapter, needless to say, will be exciting...

Thanks so much for sticking with me so far! We're only on chapter 13, and I just started writing chapter 29. So, wahoo! :)

-WP


	14. Escape

For one week every two months Voldemort left his sanctuary and travelled to the capitals of all the countries that he occupied. He was a ruler from far, but he made it his priority to make sure everyone knew and well understood that he was still near and very much in control. Draco was thankful for this week because that meant he could travel freely through his old home. "Freely" meaning still wandering through the shadows and dodging the few Deatheaters (his aunt and uncle specifically) who were put in charge while their evil overlord was gone.

Despite how much time his dear Auntie Bella and Uncle Rodolphus spent in Malfoy Manor –not to mention the other Deatheaters who were allowed to stay for extended periods of time –no one knew the ins and outs of his once-beautiful home like he or his parents. The only risk Draco took in coming was if he was seen or heard Flooing in. His lie was always the same, however, if it came to that: "Just giving the Dark Lord's pet a tune-up."

And, in fact, that is what he was there to do. Draco had been fortunate to Floo in without being caught, and the moment he had he ducked into a passageway next to the fireplace that would take him straight to the dungeons. Most secret passages the Dark Lord knew. He had to be told unless Draco and his parents wanted to be tortured for withholding valuable information from him. They had, however, opted not to tell him about the passages that he couldn't get into anyway. They were the ones that required the blood of a Malfoy, and those, the family had decided, were worth dying for.

And so after a trickle of blood Draco was walking down a long, winding staircase and soon across a level floor to the dungeons. There was only one other prisoner there and he Stunned her as well as wiped him from her memory. He didn't bother locking the dungeon door. Ron Weasley was Voldemort's pet. Very recently so was the girl. They weren't to be touched by anyone and so Draco knew that he would be safe.

Ron was asleep in his cell. As Draco grew closer he felt the array of emotions that he always did when he saw him without the Deatheater crowd. For one thing, he felt guilty. It was his fault that his once most-hated redhead was here in the first place. His guilt was magnified times ten now that he knew Hermione was alive. He hoped that Georgie had kept his promise and zipped his lip about Ron because if she ever found out what he'd done before the right time… Actually, no. She'd hate him no matter what. Her mental state had deteriorated – _was_ deteriorating –because she thought he was dead. _Draco_ had done that. And all at once the other emotions he usually felt, pride that he'd saved Ron's life, hope that he could still get him out of the Manor alive, happiness at the prospect of having him fight on the side of Light again and take down the sick bastard he worked for… All of that faded. Because even though he'd done something "good," and although he hadn't given up on his plans, the fact remained that Hermione Granger was, indeed, crazy.

 _Nothing_ could ever make that right.

With a deep sigh filled with regret Draco opened Ron's cell. He conjured a seat for himself and once he was he was comfortable, he leaned over and woke Ron with a gentle shake.

"W-what?" He questioned as he stirred.

"Wake up."

Ron's eyes were wide and alert then and he sat up. "What is it? Is there someone to torture?"

Draco cringed at how eager he sounded. Instead the blond shook his head and took out his wand. "Just keep still."

Ron nodded and obeyed. Draco raised his wand and pointed it at his head, muttering the counter-curse. As his lips moved he could see the effects taking place. Coming out of the Imperius Curse had disorienting effects. Unless ordered otherwise, most people wouldn't remember a single thing that had happened while under someone else's will. Draco, to save the redhead peace, had made sure that he wouldn't remember all the terrible things that he had done. But it was more than about memory loss now. It had been two years. Two _years_ since being put under. Granted Draco took the curse off of him whenever he could in order to give Ron's mind some rest, but it still didn't change the fact that he was under the Imperius Curse more often than he was out of it. The brain damage as a side effect could be...extensive.

 _Another thing Granger would never forgive me for._

At that thought Draco could only chuckle. When did he even begin to care what she thought of him? But soon he remembered. It was just the other day when he had practically begged her not to think of him as evil if they saw each other again. Yes, he'd certainly cared then.

With the curse lifted Ron sat perfectly still and he stared robotically. The gazing thing was a rather new phenomenon to occur this year. Before he would just be confused. But now? Now he just seemed lost. That's why Draco had begun bringing some of the redhead's personal effects to help him.

"Ron," Draco said, the man's name losing its bitter taste in his mouth after how many times he'd said it. He waved his hand in front of Ron's face and snapped his fingers twice. "Ron. Do you recognize me? Do you know who I am?"

Ron continued to stare. He had blinked once at the blond's second question, but other than that his steady gaze lingered. Draco frowned and pulled out a coin from the inside of his pocket. It looked like just any other coin, like his to apparate with as a matter of fact, but Draco knew better. He never could forget how panicked the redhead had looked when he took it off of him. There had been a second one with him as well, and along with the one he twirled between his fingers, he kept them separate from the rest of the man's things. There was something about those coins that Draco had yet to crack, and although there were no devious intentions behind it, he still wanted to know what.

"Do you remember this?" Draco questioned. He held it out for Ron to take and he did after countless seconds, perhaps a minute or two. Ron held it with his fingertips and examined it as though he'd never seen it before. He eventually dropped it and let his eyes settle on nothing.

"What about this?" Draco continued as he pulled out a wand. He was supposed to have destroyed it, but instead he had kept it and was now forcing it into Ron's hand. It was at this point, much like the previous time he'd tried, that Ron became just a bit more autonomous. With the wand in his hand he held it up to his eyes. He even smiled some.

"Mine?" He asked. Draco nodded.

"Yes, it's yours."

It was also about this time when Draco grew wary. With recognition that the wand belonged to him, there was also recognition that he could use the strongest spell he could muster to flee. Or at least that was one possibility. There were still two others, one being that Ron may not know or understand that he was a prisoner. The other, and perhaps the most frightening, was that although he knew that he was being held captive, he didn't want to hurt Draco. His _master_.

The thought unnerved Draco terribly and soon he found himself slipping the wand away from him. He replaced it with a photograph, and it was _that_ that usually got the ball rolling and rolling hard.

It was a picture of Ron and his friends taken by the Hogwarts Express at, what Draco assumed, was the end of their first year. Ron held the photo with both hands and his eyes flickered between the faces that stared back at him. He raised a finger and touched it and Draco automatically knew who was making him smile before the redhead uttered her name.

Draco had heard floating rumors that he and the brunette he'd helped escape had been a couple. Had there not been a war, he could imagine them married and living quite modestly in a poorly constructed home with the first of several freckle-faced, brownish-reddish haired children running around. But that wasn't the reality they lived in, and he regrettably felt an internal dread that Ron didn't exactly know that. There was also another dread that Draco was feeling and it irked him. He couldn't help but wonder, despite how much he _really_ didn't want to, if Hermione still felt anything for the man before him. Rumors weren't born out of nothing, and so a horrible thought burrowed inside of him that what if, _what if_ , their moment back in his bedroom –her obvious enjoyment, the way she threaded her hands in his hair, the fervent passion with which she kissed him back –was nothing more than a reflection of what she felt for Ron?

Draco huffed. It shouldn't bother him, especially because he was guilty of the same thing –sort of. With a sigh he shook his thoughts off and focused his attention back on Ron. Pity filled him instantly when he noticed a lone tear falling from his eye and travelling down his cheek. Although he may not know the exact circumstances of his predicament, he did, it seemed, know that his best friend was dead.

* * *

Hermione felt as foreign as she looked. To walk around and look at life through the eyes of a Snatcher was the most uncomfortable thing she had ever done in her life. The way people recoiled from her made her feel like someone vile, someone you wouldn't want to be caught alone with late at night or, well, at any time of day. They were afraid of her. By rights people should be –of the person she was impersonating at the very least. Snatchers were thieves. Snatchers were rapists. Snatchers were the scum of the earth because they literally had been before given the title. Hermione had always feared running into and getting caught by a Snatcher –not because they would eventually turn you over to Deatheaters, but because of what they would do to you before they did. _"Deatheaters get to have all the fun,"_ one once told her after he'd backed her onto the wall of an alley and before she kneed him in the groin and proceeded to kill him. Snatchers liked to have "fun" too, and it was a cruel day if they got their hands on you.

Hermione and Angelina made it to the edge of town without being stopped by anyone. That was the point of these disguises anyway. When they got to Gavin's shoppe, Angelina did the secret knock they had all rehearsed. A second later the door opened and the two of them went inside. They couldn't make it much further than one foot pass the threshold because a barrier had been put up before them.

"Code word," he demanded.

Hermione cleared her throat and said, "Veil 1981,"

It hurt her to say that. So she had learned, the Order's code word changed once every three weeks. It was always a combination of a word and a year, both symbolizing a catalyst, no matter how big or small, to the events that overtook them now. These two in particular were for the night Sirius was killed as well as the year Harry's parents were murdered. Although it hurt, it also reminded her why they fought.

Satisfied, Gavin nodded and took own the barrier. "Granger, which one are you?"

Hermione raised her borrowed hand. He nodded again and frowned. "I'm sorry that I tried to kill you. Granted, I don't remember doing it, but-"

"It's okay. I'm...sorry I obliviated you."

Angelina gave her a small smile while Hermione fought her scowl. She, Georgie, Andy, _and_ Ginny all made her swear that she'd apologize for erasing his memories. She didn't want to, but did it anyway for the sake of her friends and newfound confidants.

"Let's get going." Gavin said as he hefted a small chest in his hands. "I don't know how much longer that Polyjuice Potion is going to last and you need to get past the checkpoint."

Hermione kept in her gulp. The checkpoint. It hadn't been in place when she and Ron… When _she_ had gotten into Edinburgh, nor through each particular district to Newington, but Voldemort was still very keen on finding Angelina. With that said, Draco had told her that it had been put in place the very night Theo his team had failed to find her. The checkpoint was just outside of the section of Edinburgh they were in and it was guaranteed to have Dementors the closer they went to it, not to mention Snatchers.

The pretense for the night was simple. Gavin had made it a routine to meet someone named Jacob Darby to trade for items to sell in his shoppe every Thursday night. Darby was a half-blood like himself, but he wasn't an ally. Not by a longshot. He was a loyal supporter of Voldemort and everything he did which made him the world's best snitch. But the only reason this was the escape route that they had come up with was because Darby's shoppe was in Blackford, just outside of Newington. It was past the checkpoint and then Hermione and Angelina would be on their own with, hopefully, no one tailing them and still in their Snatcher form until they could hide properly.

And so down the street they went. Hermione and Angelina posed as Gavin's escorts and gave anyone who looked at them their best _"Don't look at me or I'll curse you"_ look. So far, everything seemed to be going well. They had been walking for a solid fifteen minutes without so much as a hiccup and their disguises remaining intact. That is until they grew closer to the checkpoint.

The checkpoint itself was nothing special. In fact, you wouldn't know it to be one were it not for the three Snatchers who were standing at the corner. Beyond them, a decent distance away, were a few Dementors hovering in the sky. A Patronus was keeping them up in the air, probably ready to be let down at the first sign of trouble.

Hermione took a deep breath.

"He a prisoner?" One of the Snatchers asked, soon after letting go a disgusting wad a spit off to the side. Hermione had to fight from grimacing.

"Does he look like a prisoner?" Angelina answered in a deep, gruff male voice. "He's a shoppe keeper and we're escorting him to Darby's shoppe not more than a block away from you."

One of the other Deatheaters chuckled. "'E's a lil' too old ter be needin' an escort. Don't yer think?"

"I wouldn't need one if it weren't for these crazy checkpoints." Gavin said as he eyed the Dementors in the background. Hermione wondered to herself if he really was as nervous as he seemed to be or was merely a good actor. "What are all these for anyway?"

"None of your business," the spit-shooter snapped at him. He then turned his eyes to Angelina. "We don't _babysit_. We're on the clock, as you two should be. The Dark Lord wanted _all_ hands on this."

"And we'll get right back on that as soon as we get him over." Hermione said. "So, move aside and we'll be back before you can say firewhiskey."

She smiled in what she hoped was a cocky fashion and urged Gavin forward. They all moved, but the three Snatchers crowded the intersection, blocking their paths. Hermione swallowed and thought about the borrowed wand up her sleeve and her own wand on the inside of her cloak.

"We'll let him go." The third Snatcher who'd yet to speak said. "For a little payment, of course."

Angelina eyed Hermione and instantly she knew what she was thinking because Hermione had begun tallying their options as well. They were three on three and if they were quick about it all of the Snatchers could be down in seconds. The only problem was the horde of Dementors just before them. It had to be the Patronus of one of the Snatchers, and once he was unconscious, the Patronus would break and a new form of hell would be on them in a millisecond.

Gavin held the chest in his hands protectively. "I need these for my trade."

"You'll do as you're told your-"

"Archie, yer hair? Whas tha' matter with it?"

Hermione looked over at Angelina and saw that her male, short hair wasn't very short anymore. She then locked eyes with Gavin who instantly knew what to do. The chest in his hands dropped to the ground while he, Hermione, and Angelina covered their eyes. A blinding white light erupted from the case the moment it hit and ear-shattering screams were heard. That was to be expected, considering that their eyes must've been on fire. The sudden dip in temperature was also something they knew would happen. What they _didn't_ expect was the sound of an alarm to accompany the Snatcher's screams as well as the sound of apparation all around them.

Gavin had his wand out and was already Obliviating one of the Snatchers. Hermione and Angelina were doing the same. By the time they were finished Gavin was gone as per their arrangement if things got rough and the two of them were darting headfirst into the swarm of oncoming Dementors with Snatchers and Deatheaters alike chasing after them.

* * *

Draco hadn't been down these halls in years and it was still so eerie how fresh it all felt. The chaos. The fires. The screams. The death. _Merlin_ , the death. Bodies littered the ground everywhere. Although he had been killing and had seen murders happen over the course three years, still there was no scene worse than the Battle of Hogwarts. Blood dirtied the previously pristine floors. Every once in a while he saw a spare limb somewhere and it made him want to gag. He continued walking, looking for what he shouldn't be seeing and found it.

Fiona.

She was crying over someone, a boy her own age, and by the looks of his eyes he had just been struck dead quite suddenly.

" _Stop those bloody tears, you foolish girl." A woman who very much resembled Fiona snapped at her. Her wand was in her hand and it was obvious that she had been the one to do the boy in. "We're in a war and we have duties to perform."_

 _Fiona wrenched her eyes away from her dead boyfriend and stared coldly at her mother. "Duties?_ _ **Duties?**_ _Do you think I_ _ **care?**_ _I've wanted none of this. None of it! And you…" Fiona choked on a sob and turned her gaze back to the boy whose head was resting on her lap. "You've punished me for it."_

 _Fiona's mother scowled. "I've yet to punish you. Haven't you heard? Potter is dead."_

 _Fiona's eyes widened as she quickly brought her attention back to her mother. "He's what?"_

" _Dead. Gone._ _ **Deceased.**_ _"_

 _More crying came then, but now not for her boyfriend. "Then the war is over." Fiona swallowed. "Voldemort has won."_

" _He's won the war, yes, but the battle is far from over." Her mother said as she drew closer. "The resistance will still fight us, and you have a choice to make."_

 _Fiona scoffed. "What choice?"_

" _You can leave now and be labeled as a blood-traitor, fighting against me, your own_ _ **mother**_ _, until you and the rest of them are dead, or be branded with the Dark Mark tonight. Be branded-"_

 _Fiona flinched._

" _-and I'll forget your betrayal. You can redeem yourself to me by joining the ranks. Obviously the latter option is the better one, but the decision is yours."_

Draco could see Fiona's conflicting emotions, but before he could see anything else he was roughly pushed out of her mind. When his eyes refocused he saw Fiona on her hands and knees beside his bed. He'd told her to stand there knowing full-well that she might collapse during these sessions. Somehow she had still managed to miss the bed anyway.

"I was in your mind for far too long, Carrow." Draco said as he approached her. She didn't say anything. She merely sat on her knees, her hands busily wiping at her face at the tears that were steadily falling. "Were I the Dark Lord and it was any other memory I was seeing, you'd be dead. Did you hear me? Ca-"

"I heard you." Fiona replied in a soft voice. Draco frowned. With the combination of a groan and a sigh, he got down on his knees as well and faced her. "Why did you have to look for that one?"

"I didn't look for anything. I could have if I wanted, but I didn't. I just wanted to see what memories were at the forefront of your mind."

Fiona scoffed much like she had in her memory and wiped at her eyes again. "What are you going to see next? My mother slapping me because I didn't want to torture a First-Year? _Actually_ torturing said First-Year after I just couldn't stop battling my mother anymore?"

"No," Draco shook his head. "Next time I'm actually going to dig. Next time I need you to really try to block me out as though I was the Dark Lord trying to out you as a traitor. Hopefully you're better at keeping _those_ memories away from me than the ones that hurt. Get up. We're going at it again."

It was obvious that Fiona didn't want to, but she put on a brave face and nodded. Draco was up on his feet and he reached out a hand to her. She took a deep breath and allowed him to pull her up. Just then the bedroom door was rudely opened and Theo burst in as though there was a fire.

"Draco! We've got action! The alarm-!" Theo paused. He blinked twice before letting an amused smirk grace his features. He even had the audacity to fold his arms over his chest and lean against the doorway. "My, my… It looks like we've got action in _here_ , too."

Draco's teeth clenched. "What do you want, Nott?"

"We've got to go." He answered, having wiped all the fun out of his tone. "The alarm's been tripped."

Draco kept his panic in check and made sure to step in front of Fiona in case she couldn't control hers. Theo had told him what he had done in his efforts to find Angelina. An alarm had been put in place to go off the moment any offensive magic at Newington's borders had been fired. Apparently some had, and both Draco and Fiona knew who had been the cause. They wasted no time in following Theo out of the room with their wands in hand.

"How bad do you think it is?" Fiona asked in a tone so low that only Draco could hear. He didn't reply. He didn't reply because his answer wasn't going to be something that he "thought" but rather something that he "knew." And what he knew was that Newington's borders were a warzone right about now.

* * *

"Expecto Patronum!" Hermione shouted. A silvery shield erupted out of the end of her wand and she nearly staggered back at the force the Dementors came at her with. At her back she could hear Angelina firing spells left and right at the onslaught of Snatchers and Deatheaters who kept appearing.

Her Patronus was weakening. It was already at half strength without it being in its corporeal form. They couldn't stay there; they _had_ to leave. Hermione could feel her body shape changing and her borrowed clothes hanging on her uncomfortably. She could only imagine what Angelina was looking like considering she had gulped down her potion at least two minutes before she had.

"Let the shield go!" Angelina yelled in her own voice and that's what Hermione did –what she was _going_ to do whether Angelina had told her to do so or not. Her arm slackened and the Patronus Charm disappeared, unleashing the Dementors on the crowd and not discerning between the Light and the Dark. Hermione felt a scaly hand grab the front of her robes, but a Patronus chased it away and a new hand grabbed her upper arm and pulled her across the border of Newington into Blackford.

She ran behind Angelina all the while awkwardly tugging on her clothes as they shifted and tried to fall clean off of her body. Her fellow Order member was having the same difficulty as they ran down Blackford Avenue. They ducked into an alley to catch their breath which turned out to be the best decision of their lives as spells narrowly missed them.

"Quick! Change your hair! Add freckles! _Something!_ They can't know it's you!"

Hermione nodded and pointed her wand at herself as Angelina expertly shot spells around the wall and at their enemies running towards them. She wasn't sure how blonde she had made her hair. She didn't know if she had done her freckles right. Hell, she probably had given herself dimples and horrible acne in the current state she was in.

A huge blast came out of nowhere and Angelina was knocked back onto the corner of the alley wall. If Hermione didn't know any better she could've sworn she heard a vicious crack. What was worse was that Angelina's eyes were closed.

"Angelina!" Hermione shouted. She pulled the woman by the legs and dragged her further into the alley. Once she was safe, Hermione stepped out with a Shield Charm in front of her and put her wand to work.

* * *

When Draco, Fiona, Theo, and the other three Deatheaters who had been in Edinburgh castle apparated to the outskirts of Newington they had seen a dark-skinned woman pulling along another woman and heading straight past the checkpoint. That, however, had been Draco's second concern as his eyes widened at the Dementors that had been let loose to feast on whoever had been unfortunate to be left in their wake.

Draco readied his wand. He cleared his mind. He thought about a funny joke that Giselle had once told him and recalled how that had been the hardest time he had ever laughed in his life. A fox flew out of the end of his wand and the majority of Dementors were shot straight off. Unfortunately that let the mob of Snatchers and Deatheaters to chase after the fleeing witches and Fiona was soon tugging on his arm to get them moving.

Spells, curses, and hexes were being flown from every direction, not to mention Draco's and Fiona's. Fiona, as always, shot wide and missed the targets terribly. She did, however, get a Snatcher or two, and Draco could hear Blaise grumble about how she was a terrible shot. Hermione and Angelina turned down an alley, but soon Angelina was back out and taking down as many witches and wizards as she could. One spell came incredibly close and Draco had to throw up a shield to block it. Although no matter how powerful the shield, it still knocked Draco, and several others with him, back on his arse.

 _That'll remind me never to piss her off._

One wizard who _was_ pissed off was Goyle, and of all the times to be a good Deatheater he had sure chosen a terrible bloody time. Whatever spell he used was strong enough to throw Angelina back and knock her out. Her name was called. She was pulled out of view. Following that, a young blonde witch had stepped out and began picking up where Angelina had left off.

"The bleeding little half-blood!" Theo growled once he saw the new witch. Draco was confused at first, but soon he understood. Blonde hair. Freckles. Clarissa James was before their eyes yet again and knowing the fuming man beside him, he would be far from forgiving if he ever got his hands on her.

Theo readied his wand.

Draco flicked his wrist once.

Theo tripped over his feet.

Hermione's spell stunned him right where he lay and she ducked back into the alley. Draco ran up with Fiona on his heels. If anyone was going to catch up to her and Angelina, it would be them, no one else. By the time they made it Hermione was at the end of the alley with Angelina semi-awake and half-supporting her own weight. Other Deatheaters and Snatchers were behind them, and so, to keep up appearances, Fiona shot another spell at them that narrowly missed Hermione's cheek. She turned, eyes ablaze, and aimed surprisingly well for someone who was carrying dead weight. Draco knew the spell (or curse rather) that was coming her way before it had properly left Hermione's lips and he grabbed Fiona by the shoulders and dragged her down to the ground. A ball of fire enveloped the small group of people behind him and their screams were hideous. Draco looked up at the no-longer-brunette whose eyes were full of surprise, hurt, and disappointment, but he glanced once at Fiona before letting his eyes meet hers. He gave a subtle shake of his head, pleading with her with his gaze in hopes that she would understand. He didn't know if she did. Hermione abruptly turned and continued heaving the half-conscious witch down the rest of the alley and to her left.

"We're almost there!" Hermione said with heavy breaths. She could see it. The abandoned shoppe that Georgie said would be there. She huffed. She struggled. She ran as best she could when she cried out in pain and fell over. Whatever she'd just been hit with felt like boiling hot water had been poured directly onto her back. She dug her nails into the soil and let her top teeth clamp down onto her bottoms. She then gasped loudly as a hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head up.

"Hit me, Granger." Draco whispered roughly into her ear.

 _Not a problem._

Hermione elbowed Draco straight in the face and he certainly didn't need to fake the pain. Spells flew overhead, but it wasn't towards her. It was at her enemies, and she couldn't help but smile when she saw Angelina alert, clearly in pain, and joining the fight. Hermione crawled enough until she could get onto her feet. The shoppe was within arm's reach and both women threw themselves in there. There was only one thing of interest to them in that abandoned place, and it was a vanishing cabinet with plenty of room for two people. And so they wrenched the door open and hastily stepped inside. Hermione closed the door just as she saw the angry eyes of Pansy Parkinson. The black-haired witch raised her wand and said, "Bombarda!"

Hermione's eyes widened as the spell collided with the vanishing cabinet. Splintered wood from the spell's blast erupted everywhere and she could feel her body getting demolished by it. However, the damage could've been worse. Angelina had been saying the spell to get them from one cabinet to the other. And so, the two witches travelled through space, both of them tumbling out of another vanishing cabinet and were practically covered in dust, wood, and blood.

There were no more spells. No more yelling. No more chasing. _Nothing_.

Nothing except one male voice.

"Get them."

* * *

 **Author's note:** I hope that was exciting for you! Action scenes always make me nervous to write and I'm afraid how they'll turn out/read. Hope that it lived up to your expectations!

Until the next chapter

-WP


	15. Good News

Draco, despite the pain from his bloody and probably broken nose, roughly grabbed Pansy by the collar of her shirt and yelled at her with such a rage that it surprised all those who were watching. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?! ARE YOU MAD?!"

"Draco let go!" Pansy shouted, but his grip on her only tightened.

"YOU COULD'VE-!"

 _Killed them! You could've killed them! You probably_ _ **HAD**_ _killed them!_

"WE COULD'VE FOLLOWED THEM YOU STUPID, _STUPID –_ GAH, DAMN IT!" Draco let Pansy go as he waved his hand around. He looked at it and saw that it was red and swollen as though he'd gotten stung by a bee. His cold, harsh eyes found Blaise who had his wand out and the Italian hadn't yet lowered it.

"Calm down, mate."

Draco snarled. "Calm down? _Calm down?_ What the hell do I have to be calm about?!" He pointed the finger of his good hand to the recently demolished vanishing cabinet as well as the whole storefront of the abandoned shoppe. "Parkinson just-!"

"Obliterated the two bitches dead, most likely." Blaise told him. Draco's rage quadrupled in that moment and it showed. A hand was placed on his shoulder then, but he didn't have to turn around to know that it was Fiona. A gentle squeeze was applied and he took deep breaths to calm himself down. This was _not_ the anger of someone who had missed out on capturing two resistance members. This was the anger of someone who _cared_ about what happened to said members.

He counted silently to further calm down. When he was, he exhaled and eyed everyone who had been inquisitively staring. "Dead resistance members are no good to us when the Dark Lord wants us to find them." He turned his eyes on Pansy then and spat viciously. "And _you're_ going to tell him why we lost that opportunity."

Pansy instantly looked ill. While Draco wouldn't normally set her up for punishment so easily (although _no one_ would escape Voldemort's wrath after this cock-up), if Hermione and Angelina weren't dead then they were damn sure severely injured. Someone needed to be held responsible for either outcome and it was Pansy's spell, so the blame belonged to her.

"Round up anyone who's dead or injured." Draco ordered everyone within earshot. "Burn the bodies you need to, take those injured where they're supposed to go. After that head to Malfoy Manor. _If I don't see you there,_ " he seethed as his grip on his wand tightened. "I'll hunt you down."

* * *

Hermione felt like she'd walked into a room with a ticking bomb. Considering such an explosive spell had so recently been used in her direction by all rights she should feel that way. And then she snapped her eyes open. She looked to her left, panicked, to her right, and then relaxed. Angelina was on the bed next to her and absolutely covered in bandages. The part of her that wasn't was littered in bruises. Hermione looked down at herself and found that she was very much the same.

"We finally made it, Hermione. We made it back to our friends." Ron said. She turned to her left and saw him sitting on the edge of her bed. She felt tears build up in her eyes and her chest clenched because she knew that he wasn't there. _She_ had made it to their friends. _He_ hadn't. He was…somewhere. Dead, most likely. And she wanted to cry loudly and bang her fists against the wall. The only problem was that her body hurt too much to move.

Instead she swallowed and fought back the watery onslaught. "Yes," she breathed shakily. "We made it back to our friends."

"How many do you think are left?"

Hermione's brow crinkled in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, look at the room." Ron gestured. "It's a pretty small medical ward, don't you think?"

She frowned. She really did take a look at where she was and noted how small it was compared to the one that she had originally left back in London. It had been massive and filled with at forty beds. Now the one she was in was possibly one-eighth or less of its size and held a maximum of twelve beds. If this was any indication, the Order's numbers had dwindled and it had dwindled terribly. The thought made her heart slow and nearly stop.

"You're awake."

Hermione's body stiffened. She turned to the doorway and saw someone she hadn't seen since she'd left with Ron on their mission two years ago. "Ch-Charlie?"

Charlie Weasley stood with wide, teary eyes. He seemed to be filled with so much emotion it was hard to discern what exactly he was feeling. Although, the one emotion that was clear was utter happiness.

"I can't believe you're really here." He said as he walked fully into the room. He was by her bed now, his arms outstretched as though he wanted to hug her, but he was hesitant. "I don't want to hurt you."

Hermione smiled weakly and grunted as she sat up in her bed. "I couldn't possibly hurt more than I already am. After all this time, I think I deserve that hug."

Charlie nodded, sat down at the edge of her bed and pulled her into a hug. It was still a rather loose one considering she was all bandaged up, but regardless Hermione relished in the feeling. These were arms that she'd been losing hope of ever getting to feel again. And then there was Ginny. There was Dean. Hugs and words and looks of disbelief were waiting for her from whoever else was here.

And then her body tensed. Her eyes glanced at the room over her friend's shoulder and Ron's words reverberated in her ears. "Charlie," she said slowly. "Who else is here?"

He took his time in releasing her and had great difficulty looking her in the eye. "We shouldn't talk about that now."

Hermione frowned. "Charlie… I'm not going to be in this –what I assume to be your medical ward –forever. I'll know. Just…tell me what I'm going to be walking into."

Charlie sighed as his arms fell to his side. "The war hasn't been very good to us, Hermione."

"Who's left?"

"Of the family, there's Ginny, Percy, Bill, and my father. We managed to get Fleur and Victoire out of Europe altogether and into the States. And Angelina came back." He added with a smile although it was laced with pain. It still hurt Hermione to think that George was dead. "Seamus and Dean are here, Dennis, and Padma. That's it."

Hermione's eyes widened. "That's it? Y-you…you can't be serious! That's barely a handful!" Her eyes began to water as she cast her gaze into her lap. "There was so much more of us."

"Like I said, war hasn't been good to us. We had more –not as much as at the time you were declared dead and Ron went missing –but still more. Our original base, the one in London? A Deatheater got to one of the members some six months ago and it got raided. A lot of us had been out on assignment at the time, but for those who weren't? People were killed, some were kidnapped, but most just scattered.

'My father, Ginny, and I were together. We built up this base here in Edinburgh and wrestled with the idea on how to get everyone back to us. We couldn't use the coins. There hadn't been enough time to do a proper death or captured tally, so how could we be sure the information we'd send out would be safe? Instead we floated rumors to the right people and hoped that the others would find their way.

'Seamus found us first. Dennis, Padma, and Dean found us next, then Bill and Percy." Charlie sighed as he stared past Hermione and let his gaze linger on Angelina. "Cho, George and Angelina were coming."

"So there are more then? It's not just us?"

Charlie shrugged. "I would hope so. Ginny and I never really know until we talk to Georgie, Andy, or Gavin. They and our other allies in Edinburgh are the final pit-stop before anyone gets to us."

"And before?" Hermione questioned. "I doubt anyone is quite sure what to do or where to go before they find their way to Newington. I wasn't even sure."

"But you made it back to us anyway, and that couldn't have been anything but our network of allies outside of Edinburgh helping with that one. We've found that Deatheaters pay very little attention to the homeless or drunks –the drunks the least. Just like Georgie, we have a bunch of them scattered from town to town keeping an eye and ear out for us."

Hermione was impressed. "That's…that's really well-done. How did you manage to create such an elaborate network in just six months?"

"Fiona's the one to thank for that." Charlie smiled. "She's our secret weapon. The best spy we've got working for the Deatheaters. She was on our side from day one, and as a Deatheater she's tried her best to keep us safe, sneak information to us, and establish our ally network."

 _Fiona…_

Hermione did remember that name being mentioned while in Andy and Georgie's hidey-hole and being questioned by Ginny while under Veritaserum. She hadn't thought to really ask about it at the time, but now she had her answer.

And then her eyes widened.

While trying to make it to the vanishing cabinet in Blackford Draco had been very protective of a girl when Hermione had sent a rather vicious spell in their direction. She remembered that moment vividly –not because it had happened just a few hours ago, and not because she hadn't used such lethal magic in quite some time. No, it was because Hermione had felt utterly betrayed in that moment by the blond Deatheater. She wouldn't have cared if _he_ had ducked and gotten out of the way. She didn't want him to get hurt. But everyone else? They could scream in agony under a flesh-eating curse and she would've been elated. But Draco had saved her. The look in his eyes when they had locked with hers had made her think on the promise to not forget what he was like. But…how could she? Right then she had felt like a fool for trusting him, but now hearing from Charlie's own lips that they had a Deatheater on the inside –a female one, Hermione could only surmise that _that_ was Fiona.

Or at least she hoped.

"Didn't Fiona explain any of that to you?" Charlie asked. "She was the one who brought you to Georgie and Andy after all."

 _That was the story they were told, wasn't it? But if they already had a Deatheater on their payroll, then certainly telling him and the others about Draco would be okay-?_

"Hermione!" A new voice exclaimed. It was Padma, and as she ran into the room and pushed Charlie aside so that she could hug her, Hermione decided that she would have to inform them all about Draco at a later time.

* * *

Draco felt like his body was on fire. He was sure that a couple bones had slipped out of place. He was certain that cuts had opened on his body and that blood was flowing freely. He knew that he was seconds from biting his tongue clean off. And all of this, in addition to Voldemort's rage over what had happened late in the night, was what spurred him on further.

"You are a _disgrace_." Voldemort hissed at him.

And then the pain stopped. And Draco waited. Just moments ago there had been a five-second pause and then the torture had begun again. Wasn't the Dark Lord tired? Wasn't he growing bored of hearing the same, however muffled, cries of pain over and over for the past… How long had it been?

"L-"

Draco fought off the flinch at the beginnings of Voldemort's words, just waiting for another curse to strike him.

"-ucius," he finished. "Get your son out of my sight."

Draco's eyes were closed, the right side of his face practically glued to the once-pristine floor with his blood as the adhesive. His punishment had been on display for the rest of Voldemort's followers, and he heard their feet as they trickled out of the room.

"Narcissa," he heard his father say once the room had grown silent. "Retrieve your son."

And then his father's steps joined the others who had left. The next thing he knew he was being carefully lifted by a spell and carried throughout the halls, up the stairs, and into a bedroom he hadn't been inside in years.

His own.

Through half-lidded eyes he realized that Voldemort didn't entirely care about the cleanliness of Malfoy Manor. And why would he? It could be said that the evil creature lived in his office and didn't pay many of the other rooms any mind. He was a hard-working man after all, and he had little time for sleep. Those words had once come out of his mouth, but Draco speculated that the reason he had no use for a bedroom was because he didn't sleep. He wasn't a human being. Not a real one anyway. Not anymore. People had souls, and so he had learned over the years, Voldemort's was basically nonexistent. Before Potter and his friends had destroyed those Horcuzes –or whatever they were –his fearless leader was nothing more than a decaying shell with a corrupted inside shared with inanimate (and two animate) objects. Now his shell was still decayed, and his soul was one-eighth of what it should be.

Draco had been placed on his stomach on his bed and he heard his mother order her personal house elf for a cloth and some water as well as a few healing potions. The tiny creature was back within seconds and his mother was sitting by his side, delicately dragging the now damp cloth across his face.

"I really wish you hadn't called him from Italy." Narcissa frowned as she tended to her son. "His rage wasn't just because of what happened with those resistance members. It was because you disturbed him from his work."

Draco snorted and then grunted in utter agony at the discomfort it caused him. "What he's doing isn't 'work,' Mother. He's checking in on his territories. Spreading fear lest people forget who rules them."

"So he tells _you_ and the others. And perhaps that's on his agenda as well, but it's not all that he's doing."

Draco's curiosity was piqued now, and he rose an inquisitive eye at his mother as she began to use her wand to help heal his bleeding cuts and bruises. "What do you know?"

"Not much," she replied. "Only the snippets I overheard recently as your father was seeing Yaxley and Rowle out of our home. The Dark Lord is searching for something. _That_ is why he leaves."

There was a sudden pop in the room and Draco didn't have to see the house elf to know that he was there. The thing addressed his mother in an annoyingly squeaky tone. "Mistress Malfoy, Master Malfoy requests your presence in the Dark Lord's quarters."

Draco felt his chest constrict. What could be so important that would warrant his mother's attendance? It was obvious that Narcissa was wondering the same, but she didn't voice her concerns. Instead she told her son that she would be back shortly and left the bedroom. While she was gone it left him time to think.

 _Searching for something? He's_ _ **searching**_ _for something? But Voldemort's been leaving Malfoy Manor like this ever since Potter was killed. What could be so elusive that he hasn't been able to find for three years?_ _And was he doing it alone? It was common knowledge that whenever he left he took a select few Deatheaters with him. Were they helping him?_

Thinking like this made his head hurt. He closed his eyes then, trying his best to ignore the residual spasms and the pain shooting through every limb. After a while he might have fallen asleep; he wasn't sure. Regardless, he heard his bedroom door opening and greeted his mother courteously, just as he always did. He paused, however, when he wasn't greeted back with a warm, motherly tone, but instead something snide and almost humorous.

Draco sneered, but wiped it away and opted for something a bit more malicious and perhaps juvenile. "My mistake. I thought you were my mother." He smirked with bloody teeth and braved a chuckle. "You have such a feminine stride."

Rodolphus didn't scowl. He didn't even look the least bit upset or annoyed with his comments. Instead he smiled and closed the door behind him. "My dear nephew… Ever cheeky no matter the predicament."

"You know me. Aside from being a Deatheater, I have a career in being a professional arse." Draco replied as he adjusted his body some so he could see his uncle better.

"Unfortunately," Rodolphus lazily drawled. "You'd be much better to deal with were that not the case."

"And yet you're still here, in my room, talking to me. I know you don't give a damn about my well-being, so go on. Take a good look and then piss off."

Rodolphus laughed. It was a short one, but a laugh nonetheless as he drew closer to Draco's side. "In due time. I merely wanted to relay the good news to you myself."

Draco tried not to look curious, and he fought rather hard not to let his brow rise as evidence of that. "What 'good news?'"

"Well, the Dark Lord had a meeting, you see, with your parents and myself. I must admit that it was a rather _delicious_ sight to see him tear into your parents about how poorly they raised a leader. As for why I was there, after your recent failures, the Dark Lord has seen fit to place someone _else_ in charge at Edinburgh. Care to venture a guess, Draco, as to who that person might be?"

Draco tensed. What was worse was that Rodolphus noticed. The man was smiling broadly and he roughly clapped his hand onto Draco's shoulder which caused a curt groan to regrettably escape his lips.

Rodolphus leaned forward and whispered into his ear, "I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow morning. And don't even _think_ about sitting at the head of the table."

He squeezed his shoulder for good measure, but Draco was able to hold his tongue better this time. His eyes met his uncle's –cold, murderous greys against harsh, yet taunting browns. Rodolphus left then with a hum in his voice, and Draco desperately wanted to throw something clear across the room.

* * *

Angelina had been broken up about her husband's death before, but the moment she woke up and saw Charlie she immediately burst into tears. Consoling happened which included comforting hugs and words of encouragement. The medical ward was at full capacity with all the members who stayed there, and the fact that Hermione could see them all at once and all in one space, it made her heart ache.

She didn't want to do it. She didn't want to think negatively about their situation, but how could she not? She could count them all. Including herself there were eleven people here. _Eleven_. How could they defeat Voldemort when they were just _eleven?_ He had…an _innumerable_ force behind him that didn't just include people, but Dementors, giants, and a whole horde of other enemies. In six months only eight people had made their way to Edinburgh –herself and Angelina included. If they continued on this current trajectory, what? They'd be up to nineteen by September?

And still in the minority.

"Are you alright, Hermione?"

Hermione looked up at Dennis and forced herself to smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Promise,"

"I'll be judge of that." Seamus said with a slightly smug grin. "Alright everybody, out you go. I've got to make sure our two favorite girls are okay."

Hermione's brow rose. "You're the one who bandaged us?"

"No, that was Padma and me." Ginny answered. "We heal the body, but Seamus here deals with the mind. He's our resident…what was that name again? Psych-something?"

"Psychologist," Seamus answered. He turned to Hermione and continued to smile. "My dad was a muggle, but you know that. What you probably didn't know was that he was a psychologist. I don't pretend to be an expert, because I'm really not. But when my parents were…killed-"

Hermione's stomach lurched.

"-I grabbed a few things from the house and some of them were my dad's psych books. War's damaging in more ways than one, Hermione. And psychological pain can hurt a lot more than you could even imagine. People see things they shouldn't and do things they don't want to. Talking…helps. So," he clapped his hands together excitedly. "Which one of you are first?"

 _Talking helps…_

No, no it didn't. It wouldn't in her case. She was able to deal with her insanity because she didn't think that her problem was _that_ big of a deal. Well, that whole glass shard incident turned out to kill that theory, didn't it? But even then it was okay because only she knew. Only _she_ knew the severity of her unhinged mind and once it was her secret, and her secret alone, that was fine. But then damn Draco had to go and probe and figure it out. And once again, and to her surprise, that was also something else that was alright. It was alright because he was damaged too. He understood, and it made her feel less alone.

But this? This would _not_ be okay. Unless every person here at the base saw their dead loved ones, talked to them, and didn't know what they were doing while they were –what? In a "trance," then this would be a downright disaster. Hermione didn't want to be looked down on as being crazy. As being broken. As being mentally unstable despite the fact that she was all of these things. She just wanted to be…normal. And if she couldn't be normal she wanted to be insane all by herself.

Or with Draco, since the saying about misery loving company was absolutely true.

* * *

His mother wasn't there. Fiona didn't know where his bedroom was and so he knew it wasn't her. Pansy did know, but her punishment had been more vicious than his and she wouldn't be moving an inch for days. And so it had to be her. No, no, it had to be _him_ , because she wasn't real. His own hand was running through his hair in a comforting fashion –how pathetic was that?

But because his mind was playing such tricks on him and he could see his arms at his sides, Draco let himself believe that it wasn't pretend. That Giselle was really beside him and trying to ease his pain away.

And it was working.

"Do you think she's dead?" Giselle asked as her fingers effortlessly raked through his hair. Draco frowned.

"You mean 'they,' don't you?"

"I suppose I do. But you only care about one of them."

Draco's face betrayed shock as well as hurt. "How can you say that?"

"I'm sorry," Giselle apologized as she caressed his cheek sweetly. "I didn't mean it that way. What I should have said was that you care about one of them more than the other."

Her words were better, but yet not. Draco didn't like the insinuation in the slightest and snorted. "I don't know how you came to that conclusion, Giselle, but let me inform you that you're _clearly_ mistaken."

"Am I? You were quite upset when Pansy blew up the vanishing cabinet."

"Of course I was! I worked my arse off to keep Granger alive, and, to use Blaise's words, Pansy obliterated everything I did with one spell! If Granger survived that it'll be a bloody miracle! And if she really did then I sure hope the resistance has someone who can heal her. She'll be a mess. What?"

Giselle was staring at him with such an amused grin that it irked him. When she smiled even more Draco was practically snarling.

" _What?_ " He asked again. Giselle sighed prettily –however the hell _that_ was accomplished.

"Oh nothing," she said as she resumed her hair petting. "It's just funny how you never once mentioned the other girl."

Draco stiffened. He let his eyes gaze off at nothing in particular. Just anything not to be looking at Giselle right at this moment. He should've dropped it. He should've remained quiet and simply enjoyed her careful touches, but he couldn't help himself. Instead of shutting his yap, he grounded out, "I do _not_ like Granger."

Giselle shrugged. "I never said that you did. You know, Draco, it _is_ possible to care about someone without wanting to take them to bed."

At that Draco flinched. No, they hadn't slept together, but by sounds alone no one would have believed him had he said so.

"Something on your mind?" Giselle asked him. He said no quickly and finally listened to himself about keeping quiet. He just laid there with his eyes closed, all the while trying to convince himself that he cared about Granger, not because of _her_ , but because of the freedom from this hell she represented. Yes, that's what she was. And he'd force himself to believe it even if it killed him.

* * *

 **Author's note:** A lot of things in this chapter! Probably the most worrisome thing here is the fact that Rodolphus is in charge now. Whoops… And Voldemort's up to something, hmm…

Reviews welcome. Thanks for everything guys :D

-WP


	16. Playing Nice

Ron only came to her when she needed him. That meant that when alone and cornered by the enemy, he was there. It also meant that when she was nervous and close to having a panic attack that he was there too. And although she was anxious when Seamus put up Silencing Charms around them so Angelina wouldn't hear what they were talking about, that was _not_ the time when she wanted him to come.

No, it was the _worst_ time she could've ever imagined.

Hermione had to give credit to where credit was due, and Seamus would've made his father proud. He started off by asking how well she was sleeping. He asked how she would rate her overall mood on a given day. He added in a side joke to not let You-Know-Who's reign influence her answer. He asked how she handled being on her own two years and if there was anything that was bothering her or that she wanted to discuss.

Right there. It was _right there_ when Ron wouldn't leave her alone. He'd been trying to help. He was trying to encourage her to talk to Seamus, to tell him of her tears, of her hardships, and her fears. And she would have. She really would have were Ron not whispering in her ear and telling her to do it. Instead she tried to shush him. She argued with him. She even batted his hands away once. And it was all of this that Seamus had seen, but had been too polite to point out, or was perhaps waiting for the right moment to do so.

And now Hermione was alone. Charlie had come into the room to "kidnap Angelina for a bit" and to talk. Hermione wasn't stupid nor did she miss the off look that Charlie had given her as he helped his sister-in-law out of the medical ward without hurting her further. It was no surprise then when Ginny walked into the room carrying a tray with two plates of pasta and chicken and glasses of pumpkin juice.

Hermione couldn't hold back her surprise. "For people on the run you guys eat well."

"Charlie explained about our ally network, right? Well, it helps that they all either run, sleep next to or in, pubs or restaurants."

A smile formed on Hermione's lips as she took her plate from Ginny, grimacing slightly as she reached. Considering her proximity to Pansy's spell, she was lucky to be moving at all. "It certainly does help."

Silence overcame them as they ate. It was a comfortable silence for Hermione since nothing nerve-wracking was being discussed. However, the not-so-subtle looks that Ginny was giving her was destroying that comfort.

 _Honestly, how in the hell do these people avoid Deatheater capture?!_

Hermione decided to open the flood-gates. "So, how are you?"

Ginny paused mid-chew. Her chewing continued at a slowed pace and then afterward she replied, "I'm fine. Great. How...how about you? How are _you_ feeling?"

Hermione could've throttled the witch for such blatant fishing. And then she sighed and calmed herself at the thought. When had she become so impatient? Unfortunately, images of a certain Deatheater came to mind and she hastily put them away.

"If something's on your mind Ginny, then please, just say it."

Ginny bit the inside of her jaw before muttering, "Seamus says it's not best to just drop conversation-bombs on people."

The brunette held in her snort. "Well, Seamus isn't a real psychologist, now is he?"

"No… No, he's not." Ginny pushed away her food and took a deep breath. "Do you want to know what Seamus said after he talked to you?"

"I have a pretty good idea, but tell me anyway."

Ginny was nervous. If it wasn't evident in her voice then it certainly was by the way she horribly wrung her hands together. "You answered his questions well enough, but it was the times that you grew silent that worried him."

Hermione rubbed her arm. "Oh?"

"Yes. He said that there were times that you'd just blank out. He'd say your name but you wouldn't answer him. And then you...well, you talked to yourself and to someone that wasn't there."

Hermione felt uneasy. It was one thing to admit these behaviors to herself and even to someone else. But to have them said _to_ her? It brought the situation to a whole new platform that made her want to commit herself to the nearest psychiatric ward.

"Do you…? Do you want to talk about-?"

"No," Hermione answered before the redhead could get her question out. " I really, _really_ don't want to talk about it, Ginny. All you have to know is that I'm dealing with it."

Ginny frowned. "Oh...okay. Well, if you ever need to talk-"

"You'll be the first one I turn to." Hermione said, forcing a smile onto her face. It was more than forced really, and her face hurt, but she kept up the grin long enough for Ginny to smile too. When she did Hermione finally relaxed her face, however it was still tensed considering the topic that she planned to bring up next.

"There is something that I do want to talk to you about, though. It's about Fiona. How exactly did she become an ally?"

"Long story," Ginny said casually. "But basically she was ready and willing to throw You-Know-Who and all of his followers under the Knight Bus after her mother, Alecto Carrow, savagely killed her boyfriend right in front of her at the Battle of Hogwarts. She's been on our side and a big help ever since."

Hermione's brows were raised. "All that time?" And then she muttered to herself, "How the hell did Malfoy miss that?"

"How did Malfoy miss what?"

Hermione looked at her. That wasn't how she had planned to introduce Draco into this twisted plot, but since his name was already out and in the open…

She sighed and decided to just let it out. "Georgie and Angelina lied to you that day I took the Veritaserum."

Ginny's brows scrunched together and she, perhaps instinctively, sat back a little. "What do you mean? Lied about what?"

"Fiona. They both cut me off that night and said it was her to bring me to Georgie, but they only did that because they knew that if I told the truth you would've been suspicious."

Now Ginny was on her feet. "Suspicious of _what?_ "

"Fiona didn't help me while I was in Newington." Hermione took a huge breath and then slipped her words out like she was ripping off a Band-Aid. "Draco Malfoy did."

Ginny's jaw had slackened so much that she now resembled a fish. She stood there, mouth agape for so long that Hermione thought that she'd lost her voice. In fact she hadn't, and her next set of words came out in a sort of bellow.

" _Draco_ _ **Malfoy**_ _?_ _ **He**_ _helped you in Newington?!_ " Ginny shook her head and defiantly crossed her arms out in front of her. "No, not a chance! He's more liable to slice your head clean off than to help anyone!"

"Now Ginny, you know as well as I do that there are no such rumors about him. In fact, there are hardly any rumors at all." Hermione defended (which shocked her to the core). "Whether you want to believe it or not he _did_ help me. He hid me for a week and then he brought me to Georgie."

Once again Ginny's mouth was a fish, except this time she was gasping for air. "But… Fiona would've told me!"

"She probably didn't know, and for the same reason he didn't know about her."

"But...but it's _Malfoy!_ And he's a Deatheater!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, anger starting to bubble in her chest. "And so is your little pet. I honestly, don't understand how-"

"Hermione, you-"

" _No._ You don't get to cut me off, Ginny. You're being a hypocrite!" Hermione accused. "How can you stand there, in disbelief about Malfoy, when you've got Carrow, _a Deatheater_ , in your back pocket?!"

"That's completely different." Ginny replied flippantly. "Fiona's been on our side for years. Not to mention that she's been thoroughly tested to make sure of that."

"Malfoy's been tested too!"

"Yes, and by _you_."

Hermione stopped herself, her defenses up in full force just at the potential disaster the redhead's words posed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

It was obvious that Ginny had felt it. There was an awkward shift in the air between the two young women, but she couldn't take her words back now. Instead she nibbled on her bottom lip some before cautiously proceeding.

"It's just… It would have been better if Malfoy had been questioned here. Questioned by someone who…well…"

Hermione felt tears tickle her eyes, but she held them back with an insane amount of effort. "Someone who's not brain damaged."

Ginny couldn't stifle her gasp quick enough and she quickly reached over and grabbed Hermione's hands. "No, no, you're not brain damaged! That's an awful thing to say about yourself!"

"Perhaps," she shrugged with difficulty. "But I'm sure that's what Seamus told you, in more _appropriate_ words, in addition to that list of behavioral signs he gave you. But whatever you call it, the truth of the matter is that something isn't clicking up here." Hermione tapped the side of her head. "I get it. It makes you hesitant. But I don't need my brain to tell me that Malfoy can be trusted. His actions spoke loud enough for me, and the fact that I'm _here_ , it should be loud enough for you too. The sooner you believe me on that, the sooner we can make use of _two_ Deatheaters on the inside."

Ginny grew quiet then, and Hermione, who had risen to her feet after Ginny had, plopped herself back onto the bed as her adrenaline rush wore off and her body began to hurt again.

"Hopefully everything's alright back in Newington." Ginny said in a soft tone. "On Sunday when we talk to Georgie we'll have to hope he can get the message to Fiona to be on the lookout for Malfoy. She can-"

"They already know about each other."

"What? How?"

"I don't know, but they do." Hermione shrugged. "Malfoy saved her from a spell I shot in her direction. When he looked at me it was like...he was trying to tell me not to hurt her. He wouldn't have risked getting flayed alive if she wasn't worth it."

"Flayed alive?" Ginny questioned. A small smirk started to form on her face as she regarded her friend. "What kind of spell did you use?"

Hermione smirked back. "A hot one,"

* * *

Draco spent the night in his old home and Flooed back to Edinburgh Castle early the next morning although he was in no shape to be Flooing anywhere. His uncle had replaced him. His uncle was head of Edinburgh Castle now and in charge of rounding up the resistance. His uncle would be sitting at the head of the table and barking out orders _to him_. While that last thought sent his hand itching for his wand even though the man wasn't in his eyesight yet, Draco had determined that while this unforeseen turn of events was a curse, it also held a blessing.

For one thing, less responsibilities on his part meant that he could focus his attention elsewhere –namely Ron. He was still as determined as ever to get that redhead out of Voldemort's clutches, and since Hermione's (and Angelina's) escape had gone "relatively" well, it had spurred a spark in him that a plan could be properly devised sooner rather than later.

 _Especially since I've got allies in my pocket._

However, that blessing was miniscule in comparison to the huge curse looming over him. Rodolphus hated him. He hated him for many reasons, but the main one was because his young, arse of a nephew had surpassed him. Voldemort's favoritism over Draco was evident and it drove him mad. But now he had an opportunity. He had the opportunity to prove to his overlord that he was better than Draco in every facet of being a Deatheater. In the process he would want to prove to Voldemort that his nephew didn't belong among their ranks and that would require giving Draco tasks to break him.

And here lay yet another blessing. Draco's dear ole Uncle Rodolphus probably hadn't realized (and never would) that the nephew he despised had it in his power to screw him over – _royally_. And he had every intention of doing just that. Voldemort had made Draco look weak in front of everyone, but Draco would make his uncle look like a fool. And _that_ was far worse than looking weak.

And so, despite the limp in his step, his healed, yet still sore nose, his body looking as beat down as it felt, Draco strode into breakfast by eight a.m. as he always did, and he had one hell of a duel with his mouth to keep his sneer from rising. Instead he acted pleasant, and damn he should've gotten an award for it.

Theo and Blaise sat on one side of the table while Goyle and Fiona sat on the other. Rodolphus was, indeed, sitting at the head of the table –not in his seat, but rather the one that faced the dining room's entrance. It seemed that in an effort to make Draco feel less superior and to ensure that the other head of the table kept his arse out of it, Rodolphus had invited a guest. Draco's sneer was harder to control that time, but he did it anyway. This left two seats at the table, one on both his uncle's left and right. Although at this point he'd rather sit next to Fiona, the last thing he needed was attention drawn to how close they had become in just a few days. He sat next to Blaise on his uncle's left.

"Uncle," Draco greeted as he sat down. Rodolphus gave him a gentle nod and a smile that was dripping with utter joy. There was the sound of someone clearing their throat and Draco shot his eyes down to the other head of the table.

Rabastan Lestrange –his uncle's brother.

"What? No greeting for me?"

"If you want a greeting and someone to kiss your arse I suggest you call a house elf." Draco said to him. There were snickers from his friends while the man grew red in the face. To Rodolphus he had to play nice, but to Rabastan? Not so much.

"Why you little-!"

"He's only trying to bait you, Rabastan." Rodolphus interrupted. "He's a little twit and will do anything to get under your skin."

"Under it, in it, hell, I may even peel it back if the opportunity presents itself." Draco grinned maliciously at the not-so-hollow threat as he picked up his goblet. "I may like having you here."

"YOU-!"

" _Enough_ , Draco." Rodolphus said sternly as he looked at him. His smile returned as he said, "I won't stand for this nonsense at _my_ table."

 _ **His**_ _table._

Draco wanted to peel _his_ skin back for making such a comment, but no, that wouldn't do. His uncle's demise had to come deftly, quietly, and, most importantly, at the right moment.

"Now, if these childish antics are through, we can get down to business." Rodolphus announced. "The Dark Lord is getting tired of having no results. You've all been here for a month and what have you to show for it? Two dead resistance members and two more who've managed to escape."

"Or are dead," added Rabastan. "Thanks to Parkinson."

Draco felt himself sink down in his chair some. It was only now that he was feeling guilty about giving Pansy over to Voldemort the way he had. Her punishment had been one threshold level of pain lower than his, and while he had a pretty high tolerance, she did not. Her time at Edinburgh Castle was done –at least until she could properly heal.

"According to your reports," Rodolphus continued. "Those two mudbloods who got away-"

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Everyone_ who was a resistance member was a mudblood to him.

"-had help. And it'll be _your_ job," he directed at Draco. "To find out who that person was. Organize the rest of your lot and find out how the hell that vanishing cabinet got into Blackford in the first place."

Draco huffed. "Well, that sums up _our_ duties, but what will you, oh fearless leader, be doing?"

"Why, enjoying the _fine_ luxuries of this castle." Rodolphus replied gleefully and spitefully throwing Draco's words back in his face.

Draco said nothing, but only because his uncle wouldn't be enjoying said luxuries for very long.

* * *

That night Draco set to work. Despite absolutely _abhorring_ being told what to do, his uncle's orders gave him the opportunity to head out of Edinburgh Castle with very little suspicion. He played his part well and allowed Goyle to head into Blackford to investigate the vanishing cabinet. He had a feeling that there would be nothing to find, and by sending Goyle of all people it was a surety. Theo, Blaise, Fiona and Draco were going to head into every district in Edinburgh and see what information they could find out. They had split up the districts amongst themselves and Draco made sure that Theo and Blaise went together as a pair. It was an unfortunate matchup seeing as they were both evil bastards, but Draco needed Fiona with him. They had Newington on their list and important matters to tend to.

"Are you sure you don't want me in there while you talk to Georgie?" Fiona asked. Draco nodded as they continued down the street.

"I won't have a problem convincing Georgie that my plan is a good idea."

"A plan that you _refuse_ to tell me about." She grumbled. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Have you mastered Occlumency yet?"

"No."

"Then stop whining."

That didn't stop her from muttering furiously about it though.

"Just do your part and we'll be on our way."

Fiona scoffed. "Ha, _my part_. You, Mr. Malfoy, have given me an impossible task."

Draco cocked a brow. "What do you mean? All you have to do is butter Gavin up and get him to like me."

"Exactly,"

Draco's mouth fell into a scowl as Fiona smiled gloatingly. After that they parted ways –she to Gavin's shoppe where he said he'd meet her and him into the pub. Once he got there he met Georgie's eye but didn't stop. He paused once to order a drink from Andy, chugged it down, and then went towards the bathroom where he snuck into Andy's back room and then down into the hidey-hole as carefully as he could. It took several minutes, but soon Georgie was joining him.

"Ah, there's my favorite Deatheater!" Georgie greeted. "Did Hermione and Angelina make it out alright? Gavin told me all hell broke loose before he followed protocol and took off."

 _Favorite Deatheater?_ _ **Favorite**_ _Deatheater?_

Draco's scowl was in place again as he spoke brashly. "Hopefully they're alive. Maybe they're dead. I'm not so sure since Pansy blew the vanishing cabinet sky high once they were in it."

Georgie's face paled. "Oh no… But if you don't have their bodies, then they had to have made it, right? They-"

"Oh, I'm sure they made, just not sure if it's in one piece. But let's not talk about that right now, shall we?"

Georgie furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? What else could we possibly have to talk about if not them-?"

"Trust me, there's plenty. First things first, which ones were your favorite teeth again?" Draco snarled as he clenched his fist. Georgie ducked out of the way just in time and raised up his hands in defense.

"Hey, hey, hey! What's up with all the hostility?"

"I'll tell you _what's up_. How the hell do you not tell me Fiona was an ally?!"

Georgie's eyebrows rose into his receding hairline. "She told you?"

"Yeah, she told me. Granted she was piss drunk when she did, but I got the straight truth from her as soon as she sobered up. Now, I'm going to ask you this _once_ and you'd better not lie to me. Are there any more allies I should know about aside from you, Andy, Fiona, and _Gavin_?"

"Gavin? She told you about Gavin? Oh…" Georgie shook his head. "He's not going to like that much."

"I couldn't give a pygmy puff's arse what he likes." Draco snorted. "Answer the question. Is there anyone else?"

"No one –unless you count the ally network."

Draco cocked his head to one side. "Ally network?"

"You remember the attack on the Order's London base." Georgie said and the blond nodded. "Well that scattered them terribly and they're trying to get their members back. We, a long line of seemingly harmless drunks and homeless people help out in that regard. So, other than us, no, there's no one else." He paused then and gave him a once-over. "Now that I've told you that, can I still keep my teeth?"

Draco gave him a once-over back and crossed his arms. "For now,"

"Alright then, glad that's settled." Georgie smiled. "And as for our girls, be honest with me now. Do you think they're okay?"

Draco frowned. "I don't know, but at least they're away from here. You'll just have to wait until one a.m. to find out."

Georgie sighed. "One a.m. it is then. So, was the whole ally thing the only reason you came over here?"

"No, I have a request."

"A request? _The_ Draco Malfoy – _Deatheater_ Draco Malfoy is asking the local drunk for a request?"

Draco glared at him. "Remember your teeth, Georgie."

"Yeah, yeah, my teeth." He waved him off. He sat on the edge of one of the beds and urged him on. "What is it?"

"I need to get Ron Weasley out of Malfoy Manor."

All the mirth from Georgie's face was wiped clean in that instant. He swallowed. "So, your plan is coming to light then, eh?"

"The only thing that was stopping me was not knowing where the resistance was. I still don't, but you do."

"What do you want to do exactly?"

"A fight," Draco explained. "A big one. The Dark Lord will think that the resistance is at some location, where they _will be_ , but they'll be prepared. Weasley will be there and once he is they've got to take him and then get their arses out of there."

Georgie fidgeted where he sat. "I don't know. That sounds risky."

"War always is."

"How will you convince You-Know-Who to even let Ron out?"

"I don't." Draco said honestly, then he smiled mischievously. "I plan on letting my uncle do that."

At the look on his face Georgie also began to smile. "My, you really are one devious little prat, aren't you?"

Draco nodded. "One of the best. Now listen up good to what you should tell them. Then we have to go over some unfortunate leadership changes at Edinburgh Castle."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Yes, Rodolphus, be smug all you want. Draco's got something for you! I just love a smart, manipulative, Draco.

Thanks for reading guys!

-WP

PS. in response to **bludgerwombat's** review: Rambling is good! Get those theories running! In terms of the plot line, I always imagined in my head that Harry died while in battle against Voldemort inside the school. I shan't say anymore about it as it'll be discussed a bit more in depth later :)


	17. Two Birds, One Stone

Although Angelina had been granted permission to leave the medical ward with help, Hermione had been advised to stay there at least until morning. After all, she was closest in proximity to Pansy's spell.

And so, once again the medical ward was filled with people sitting on beds and listening attentively to Hermione's tale of the last two years. She detailed how after the fight of a lifetime in Russia had left her on death's doorstep it had taken her nine months to recuperate well enough to travel. And even then she only moved once a week, and not even very far, because her body had still been very much battered. With nothing but her wand and the few little medical supplies she could steal from local shoppes along the way, it had been a miracle she'd been able to get around at all. Not to mention the dueling matches she got into whenever she'd been spotted that gave her new injuries or worsened old ones. All in all it had taken her a full year and five months to reach Austria. It was there that she'd heard about the Order's London base and had made it her mission to find where her friends had gone.

Obviously she left out any and everything pertaining to her hallucinations of Ron. She also ran with the story that it was Fiona who had brought her to safety once she had reached Edinburgh and not Draco. Ginny had convinced her that it was best that only she and Angelina knew about that tidbit considering it was highly unlikely everyone (if anyone) would believe her. Even Ginny was still teetering on the fence about that, and Hermione didn't have be told to know. The only person truly on Draco's side apart from her was Angelina, and that was only because she both knew and saw way too much. It took all of Hermione's willpower to meet her eyes and not look guilty for her actions.

"So, that's all about me." Hermione said rather unceremoniously with a hurtful shrug. "What about all of you? Charlie told me that some you were out on missions when the base was attacked."

"We were." Dean said. "And it's something we really need to get back to doing, but with the numbers we have…"

"What were the missions?"

"Aside from the normal hunt down every Deatheater?" Ginny answered. "Search and detain."

Hermione stared at her in confusion while Arthur took this time to speak up. "Of course you know all about the Horcruxes. You also know that we figured that with them all gone and with Harry…" he paused, cleared his throat and continued. "Being gone, that You-Know-Who might want to make more of them. His immortality was gone and he needed it back."

Hermione nodded. This she knew. After Harry's death they all had deemed it a priority to make sure Voldemort didn't make any more Horcruxes. It was bad enough trying to find and destroy the remaining three (four, if Harry was included), but to do that process all over again? They had wanted to nip that and nip it fast. That was what Hermione and Ron's mission had been in Russia –to be on the lookout for any priceless artefacts that Voldemort may have been sending his followers to find to house his soul.

"It wasn't until a few months after what happened to you and Ron that we realized we were wrong."

Hermione whipped her head around so fast that it agitated her bruised body. She massaged her neck and found Bill's somber expression. "What do you mean that you were wrong?"

"I mean that he doesn't trust in the nature of a Horcrux anymore. In You-Know-Who's opinion, his Horcruxes got destroyed _much_ too easily –by teenagers, no less. He didn't want to risk it again."

"So he's looking for something else in order to master death." Arthur said. "And there are only three objects in the world that can do that. One of them he already has."

Time slowed.

Hermione felt like she was stuck in a vacuum with Mr. Weasley's last six words. It solidified her raging thought process the moment he had begun speaking, and now she felt sick.

"The Hallows," she breathed almost inaudibly. "He wants all of the Deathly Hallows."

"Charlie, Cho, and I were tracking some leads on the Resurrection Stone." Angelina said. "Rumors of loved ones coming back. Suicides and depression. Anything that seemed like the stone had been through there."

"Harry's cloak," Hermione said frantically. "Where is it? Who has it? Is it here?"

"Neville and Luna have it." Ginny replied. "At least I hope they do. On the day of the attack I threw it at them and told them to run. They slipped the cloak over themselves and then they were gone."

"Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad."

"Do you know what'll happen if he gets them all?" Padma asked. "Because we've been stumped. It's easy to say that you'll be a 'master of death,' but what does that even mean?"

That was a good question. What _did_ it mean? The Deathly Hallows were a myth and all the information about them came from fables. Whether fable or truth, Hermione had never heard any tales of what the consequences were of possessing all three. To be invisible, to bring back the dead, and to wield a wand capable of mass destruction, well…

"We've been wrestling with that for a while." Charlie said. "What it meant. I mean, do you think that the Hallows can _really_ prevent You-Know-Who from dying?"

"I don't know." Hermione shook her head. "I'm just as lost as you are. Perhaps with a bit of reading I could figure something out."

"That's our Hermione." Seamus grinned. "Always heading to the books."

Hermione smiled. She only hoped that the reading she did pointed in the opposite direction of the heinous and far-fetched theory that was forming beneath her brow.

* * *

Part one was done, now it was time for part two. Draco was dreading this considering that he had hated the man on sight when he met him, but he was going to be on his best behavior by taking the high road. Although, one could argue that his definition of "best behavior" needed to be tweaked a bit.

"Well, isn't it my favorite pain in the arse," Draco smiled as he entered the shoppe. Fiona shot him an exasperated look while Gavin fixed his face into something horrendous.

"Sod off,"

Draco turned to Fiona with a curious expression. "I thought I told you to get him to like me?"

"Told you it was an impossible task."

"And a worthless one if you ask me." Gavin spat at him. "You Imperiused me!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "For a good reason. And if I hadn't done it, you'd be dead."

"If you hadn't done it, George would still be alive."

Draco paused. He could see Fiona standing as stiff as a statue at the mention of George, but he didn't lash out. He merely cleared his throat and sighed. "Perhaps. But he would've been tortured endlessly, and trust me when I say that death was a much better option for him. So, if you're done being morbid, let's focus on the task at hand."

Gavin scoffed. "The task at hand?"

"Yes. In case you haven't noticed, I came here to play nice. So," Draco said as he took out his wand and set it on the counter. "Let's get this over with."

Gavin watched as the blond set his wand down and then he looked up with a questioning expression. "Get what over with?"

"This bitch fit of yours. Come on. I'm giving you _one_ sucker punch, Gavin, so make it good."

Draco stood ready, urging him with his hands to give him one right in the jaw. Gavin stayed behind the counter in disbelief, honestly not wanting to go any closer to the man. But, if he really was insisting…

Gavin's fist got Draco squarely in the jaw. It was a good hit too, the blond had to admit, and he massaged it once he shook off the initial blow.

"Fine. You feel better now-? DAMN IT!" Draco yelled as he staggered back. Another punch was swung his way and collided with his left jaw this time. Fiona gasped in the background while Draco turned furious eyes on him. "I said _one_ , Gavin! _One_ sucker punch!"

"I did do one." Gavin smiled. "That second one was because I don't like you."

Draco's eyes narrowed to harsh slits. "You-!"

"Okay! Okay!" Fiona jumped in. "I think it's safe to say that you guys are even now, right?" She turned to Gavin, then to Draco. " _Right?_ "

Draco tasted blood in his mouth and sneered viciously. "Right…"

"Good. So in that case I'm going to go 'question people.' I hope the both of you are still alive when the night's done."

Gavin was confused as he watched Fiona eye them both and then leave them alone in the shoppe. "Why did she leave?"

Draco took a moment to spit the blood from his mouth out of one of the windows. "Because she sucks at Occlumency. Until she gets better at it, she can't know what's being planned in case someone, _especially_ the Dark Lord, goes probing around in her mind."

It was obvious that Gavin didn't want to agree with him, but there was nothing he could say against it. Instead he just nodded. "What this plan of yours?"

"It involves getting Ron Weasley out of London and back to the resistance."

Gavin's jaw dropped. After that he was stuttering. "R- _Ron W-Weasley?_ _ **Weasley?**_ He's dead!"

"Is he?" Draco countered with a smug look on his face. "There was never a body, so how can you be sure?"

"You're seriously standing here and telling me that after two years Ron Wealsey's _alive?_ "

"I don't know why you're so shocked. You believed Granger to be dead for the same amount of time and she's very much alive."

Gavin snapped his mouth shut. "…Yes, I suppose so. What happened to him?"

Draco had the decency to look guilty at his next words. "For the past two years he's been at the Dark Lord's stronghold in London as a Deatheater and Imperiused by yours truly."

Gavin nearly growled. "You and those _damn_ Imperius Curses. Why did you do that to him? What could you have possibly gained from taking his will like that?"

"For one thing, Weasley got to live."

"That's no way for anyone to live."

"Maybe, maybe not." Draco lazily shrugged. "But the fact remains that now there's a way to reach out to the resistance and I can finally get him back to them. That's where you come in."

Gavin crossed his arms and took a deep breath. "It seems so. I assume Georgie's told you about the ally network? We can reach out. Get the word to our people in London and-"

"No," Draco interrupted. "When I said 'that's where you come in,' I literally meant _you_."

"Me? What kind of plan have you cooked up that specifically involves me?"

"One that gets the resistance and Deatheaters on a battlefield so I can slip Weasley into the right hands amidst the chaos."

"Humph, I see." Gavin replied thoughtfully before a curious gaze overtook him. "And you need me because…?"

"Because you're going to be the little birdie to let slip where the resistance will be."

"I'm going to do _what?_ Are you out of your bloody mind?! Even _if_ I was willing to be your little puppet-"

Draco flinched at the term.

"-I would _never_ give up the Order's position! I don't even know where exactly it is!"

"I'm not telling you to let slip the location of their base, you dimwit." Draco rolled his eyes. "Just a prime location for the fight to happen –preferably in their favor and not the Dark Lord's. You've got to do it, Gavin."

"But why me?" He asked again. If Draco didn't know any better, he would say that the man was scared. His next words pretty much confirmed it. "You-Know-Who's probably already suspicious of me because of that first stint although I've been cleared. For it to happen again-"

"I didn't say that you'd be letting that information slip to _him_." Draco smiled, already thinking miles ahead at the end result of all of this if everything went according to plan. "You'll be saying it within earshot of my uncle. Rodolphus,"

Gavin shuddered. "I don't want it to be him either. Why can't you just do it? You're You-Know-Who's favorite after all. He'll believe whatever cockamamie dribble you say."

"That's true. Or at least it was. The Dark Lord's grown impatient with me as of late and has taken away my command over Edinburgh Castle and given it to my uncle."

There was no shudder this time from Gavin, but he did go remarkably pale. He gulped. "Is it too late to say that I'll miss your leadership?"

Draco smirked. "It's never too late to kiss my arse, Gavin. But putting that aside, I need to get my uncle out of the way and this kills two birds with one heavy stone. I'm setting him up for a fall, and you need to help me push him."

Gavin was silent for almost a full minute. He eventually let out an exaggerated sigh and nodded. "Alright, I'll do it. But just tell me one thing, Malfoy. My life. What are the odds I make it out of this deathtrap?"

"Sixty-forty."

A snort escaped Gavin's lips as he shook his head. "Well, at least the odds are in my favor."

* * *

Ginny moved the mirror from her room and propped it up in the medical ward so that Hermione could join the conversation. It was them, Angelina, and Charlie. It was always Ginny who spoke to Georgie considering it was her who Fiona had introduced him to. Whoever joined her in her conversation with him depended on the topic at hand. Considering they were probably going to be discussing tactics Charlie was up. He was their lead strategist.

"Thank Merlin you two made it alright!" Georgie exclaimed. Then he frowned. "You look like hell, though."

"Consequences of getting blown up." Angelina said casually as she readjusted her position on her bed. "How's Gavin?"

"Fine. He made it back alright and no one suspects him of anything. At least not yet."

"Not yet?" Ginny questioned. "What do you mean 'not yet?'"

"I mean that Edinburgh isn't the cozy little spot anymore."

"Was it ever?" Charlie snorted. Georgie shrugged.

"Well, with Draco Malfoy running things it was significantly better than how things are sure to be run now."

Ginny's face instantly switched to concern as she sat up even more erect. "What's going on Georgie?"

"So _Fiona_ says," he emphasized, making sure to briefly stare at Hermione and Angelina in turn. "You-Know-Who's not pleased with hi- with Malfoy. The little progress he's made in finding you all, not to mention _losing_ the both of you, was the final straw. There's a new Deatheater running the show now. Rodolphus Lestrange."

Charlie's eyes widened. Angelina cowered. Ginny gasped. Hermione did none of those things except felt an internal dread for Draco. She didn't know Rodolphus well, but what she did know of him was that he hated his nephew and he would probably do anything he could to undermine him. Draco would be watched closely and, unfortunately, forced to do things that he'd have no wiggle room to get out of lest he be named a traitor. Yes, this was bad. Hermione was counting her lucky stars that she and Angelina had managed to make it out of there before that particular change in leadership had taken place.

"Fiona suggests that, at least for the time being, we don't let any more resistance members come through here. Not until Malfoy can get his position back."

Charlie scoffed. "We don't want the little twat to get his position back. We don't want anyone to have it! What makes her think that he can anyway? You-Know-Who doesn't change his mind about matters so easily."

"Well, Fiona says that she has a pretty good way to tip the scales back into his favor. And you've got to admit, he's a lot less terrifying than his uncle."

Charlie huffed. "Fiona's certainly been doing her share of plotting."

Ginny tensed, then she immediately turned her eyes on Hermione and Angelina who were purposefully ignoring her. "Yes… It seems she has. So, Georgie, did _Fiona_ say how she's going to tip those scales?"

Charlie had been oblivious to the tone of her voice, but Georgie hadn't and he looked to the other two women in the room for confirmation. Hermione mouthed, ever so carefully, "Just Ginny," and he understood.

"Yes, she did." Georgie answered. "And it'll work out in our favor too."

"I highly doubt that." Ginny grumbled under her breath, but Hermione elbowed her in the side to keep her quiet. If Draco had a plan, she was more than eager to know.

"What's the plan, Georgie?"

"A trap for the Deatheaters. You have to find a place –one that you know the terrain and you know it _well_. We'll float the rumor here and make sure that Lestrange hears it. He'll think he's got the drop on you, but he won't. And when that happens...give him and the other Deatheaters hell."

"Well...I suppose I do like the trap aspect of it." Charlie said slowly. "Numbers aren't exactly on our side here, but if we set it up right, we could take down a good number of them before scrambling our arses out of there. But what I don't get is Malfoy. How exactly does this help him?"

Hermione chuckled. "The whole plan will make Lestrange look like a fool. Think about it." She urged her friends. "He probably feels like he's on top of the world right now and he'll do anything to stay on You-Know-Who's good side. He'll want to prove himself. And so, what will he do when he 'finds out' where we are? He'll brag and say that he did what Malfoy couldn't in just a few days. He'll crash harder than a one-winged hippogriff when his plot to capture us fails. _That's_ how Malfoy gets his position back."

Georgie smiled at Hermione proudly. Angelina looked impressed. So did Ginny (although Hermione was sure she'd rather curse herself than outright say it). Charlie, on the other hand, held a neutral expression, and it wasn't until he spoke that everyone knew what his position the matter.

"It's a pretty good plan; I do admit it. We could really screw You-Know-Who over with this, but I'd rather that no one had power left in Edinburgh rather than giving it back to Malfoy."

"But Charlie-"

"I'm not shooting the idea down, Hermione." Charlie made sure to say. "But if we do this, if we _really_ find a way to go through with this, Malfoy dies. Him _and_ Lestrange."

Hermione felt her heart sink. Rodolphus, she couldn't wait for his heart to stop beating, but Draco? He'd done too much for her just for him to die. It wasn't fair. And all at once she was reminded of the blond's words about her friends "getting their claws on him." Yes, it certainly did seem that it was now in their repertoire to simply kill without capture and without an interrogation. But maybe that was just Charlie and not everyone? And even if it was, could Hermione really blame them? Not too long ago she was ready to end Draco's life just the same, and that hideous thought made her extremely bitter.

Georgie tentatively spoke. "If it's not Malfoy or Lestrange, then You-Know-Who will only appoint someone else."

"No one's worse than those two." Charlie scowled. Angelina looked at him in disbelief.

"Oh yes there is. And she's crazier than any witch or wizard I've ever seen."

"And she'd never leave her overlord's side." He reasoned. He sighed shortly after and pulled on his hair a little. "I honestly don't know why you guys are fighting me on this."

Ginny frowned. "I don't think it's fighting." She looked at Hermione, Angelina, and Georgie in turn. She seemed like she'd rather bite her own tongue off before saying this next bit. "Sounds more like a pick your poison kind of deal."

Charlie shrugged before giving a small smile. "And my way knocks two poisons off the list. Regardless, we'll still have to let everyone in on what the suggested plan is and vote before we make a move. Georgie, do you think Fiona could join in on this on Thursday?"

"No guarantees, but I'll see."

Charlie nodded. "Right then."

"Georgie, you and the others make a log of everything Lestrange is doing out there, okay?" Ginny said. "Malfoy too."

"Will do. I'll see you all on Thursday."

Georgie was gone from the mirror after that and the room delved into quiet. It was late, they were tired, and Charlie and Ginny were the only ones who didn't have to spend the night in the medical ward. Charlie left them after bidding Hermione and Angelina goodnight and waited for Ginny to join him. She politely declined, saying that she'd stay for a little while longer. Charlie took her at her words and Ginny kept up her smile until her big brother was gone. After that an exasperated sigh left her lips.

"I don't like this."

Angelina furrowed her brow. "What do you mean? It's a good plan."

"Yeah, it is. I agree." Ginny said. "But it's a plan that came out of _Malfoy's_ mouth."

"But Gin," Hermione pleaded. "I already told you about him. I told you that you could trust him."

"I understand that, but honestly, Hermione, talk it out. _Really_ digest it. This plan has Malfoy setting up his own people. For what? Just to knock his uncle down a peg or two? You-Know-Who's side would crumble tremendously if we did our part right, and we all know that Malfoy wouldn't do _anything_ that threatened his You-Know-Who's power-"

"I think we've already established that you _nothing_ about Malfoy." Hermione said sharply. So sharply in fact that Ginny leaned back some. "You're underestimating one thing about him, and it's the fact that he loves _himself_ more than anyone. He'd take out his own parents if that meant getting ahead." She cringed on the inside, duly noting that he probably wouldn't go _that_ far, but still, she had a point to make. "It's just what Georgie said. It'll tip the scales right back to him _and_ we get the opportunity to kill as many Deatheaters as we can. It's a win-win situation, Ginny. You can't deny that."

Ginny chewed on her lip. Angelina was staring between the two witches as they argued and soon the silence gave way to the redhead pinching the bridge of her nose in deep thought and taking a deep breath.

"We still have to vote on this. Although, I hope you do realize that the three of us are the only ones who know about Malfoy's _supposed_ allegiance. If we go through with this, everyone will want to kill him."

Hermione nodded. "I know. But it'll be up to us to make sure he doesn't die. And he won't."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Oh Draco, you smart, smart man. And Charlie…well, he's just screwing it up, isn't he? My favorite scene out of this was definitely between Draco and Gavin. That sucker punch bit…yup, I laughed way too much at it over my laptop. Also, HALLOWS. Kudos to **bludgerwombat** to thinking up of this before ;)

Thanks for reading guys!

-WP


	18. Stalking

There were four curses that Draco knew of that could turn Rodolphus inside out.

Five to burn his skin off.

Seven to disintegrate his organs.

And three to boil his blood.

Draco stood before his uncle, Goyle and Theo on either side of him, as he repeated each curse in his mind like a mantra. How he _wished_ he could use one of them right now just to rid him of that smug, all-important look on his face. But no, he needed to have patience. There was a time and a place for everything, and if all went according to plan it would be Voldemort to be using one of the curses Draco kept mulling over.

"It's been three days. Would any of the three of you like to explain why there's been no progress on how those mudbloods escaped?" Rodolphus asked. The question had been directed at all three, but the man's eyes never once left Draco. The blond held in his snort.

"There's no explanation to give." Draco answered for them all. "The resistance simply left no trace."

Rodolphus' eyes narrowed. "There's _always_ a trace."

"Or so you hope. There's a reason why they've stayed hidden from us for so long."

His uncle scoffed. "Obviously you're forgetting London."

"Not at all." Draco answered casually. He let a small smirk form and wore it proudly. "We had an informant then. And I hate to tell you this, but unless a fortunate scenario such as that comes our way again, the Dark Lord may find you just as ill-fitted to lead as he saw me."

Draco could see his friends eyeing him from his periphery, but he paid them no mind. No, he was much too focused on the vein throbbing in his uncle's neck and he was much too pleased with the flush of his skin.

"Someone, somewhere, _knows something._ " Rodolphus spat angrily. "Find it. You have until Friday."

Draco couldn't help himself. His golden brow shot right up and he smiled broadly. "Giving us deadlines now, are we? I take it that's the same one the Dark Lord gave _you?_ "

Rodolphus' eyes instantly turned to slits.

 _So much for me staying on his good side._

"That's no concern of yours." He seethed. "Focus on your task, nephew, so I won't have to tell the Dark Lord how you've disappointed him _again_."

Draco inclined his head some. "Friday it is then."

He turned on his heel without being dismissed and didn't miss how Theo and Goyle followed him without missing a beat. If Rodolphus thought for a _second_ that he had control over Edinburgh Castle then he was sadly mistaken.

"If we haven't found anything on the resistance by now, we're not going to." Theo said as they walked away from Rodolphus' quarters. Draco nodded.

"I'm aware."

"Are you? Then why'd you agree to Rodolphus' terms?"

"To shut him up, of course."

Theo grinned. "Ah yes, of course. Regardless, we still need to have something to say to the Dark Lord come Friday."

"And we will."

"Really?" Goyle asked incredulously. "And what exactly will we have to say?"

"Whatever it is Gavin has to tell us. Indirectly, of course."

Theo had joined in Goyle's disbelieving stare as Draco continued.

"I know he's been exonerated, but I still don't trust the little blighter. Do you two _honestly_ believe that the goodie-goodie side of Light would Imperius a random stranger just to save their own arses? Not likely. I think they purposefully chose an ally."

"You've got to be kidding." Goyle said with wide eyes. "Why on earth would they do that?"

"Hell if I know." Draco shrugged. "But I've learned to trust my instincts on matters such as these."

"I guess that's our plan of action then." Theo concluded. "We follow him."

"It's already taken care of. Fiona's doing it."

Theo's jaw dropped. " _Fiona?_ You put _Fiona_ on detail? Are you out of your bloody mind?"

"I'm only following the lady's wishes." Draco replied with a mischievous expression. "She's the one who so boldly told the Dark Lord that she wanted to stay in Edinburgh to redeem herself. Well, here's her chance to do just that. If she mucks it up, then that's her arse, not mine, and that's all that matters."

Both Theo and Goyle laughed and subsequently praised Draco for his actions. What he'd just said was a mélange of both a lie and truth. Yes, Gavin was a resistance ally. Yes, Fiona was following him. However, Fiona had yet to be informed on what the plan was and had become rather unbearable to be around whenever it was time for her Occlumency lessons. The only bit of information he had given her –an order, really –was to keep Gavin safe and to do it from a distance. She had fought down (surprisingly successfully) every urge to press him for an answer as to why she had to play bodyguard and did what he said.

"We're still going to the pub tonight, yeah?" Goyle asked. "We all know how much your uncle _hates_ when we all come back drunk."

Draco laughed. "Absolutely. I'll see you two later."

Goyle and Theo walked off then and Draco turned on his way back to his to his suite. He hadn't made it very far, however, when someone's voice caught his ears.

"You're a sick, evil bastard."

The tone of voice was absolutely lethal, but the person who said it didn't faze him. In fact it surprised him. Draco stared at Adrian as he came out of the shadows with a murderous look in his eyes. Draco huffed as he strode over.

"You know," he began. "It takes a brave man to say something like that to me." Draco stopped in front of Adrian, took one good look at his face and chuckled. A quick finger-swipe across the man's forehead came next and it was met with sweat. "Or perhaps not so brave. Alright, Pucey. What's crawled up your arse?"

Adrian took a step back and wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand. "You're such the selfish prick. First Pansy and now you're trying to off Fiona?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Pansy isn't dead."

"She was close enough."

" _Close_ being the optimal word. If you've got a point here you'd better start making it."

" _My point_ ," Adrian gritted through his teeth. "Is that we may be Deatheaters, but we don't turn on each other. Certainly not the way you've been doing it."

"Oh really?" Draco replied haughtily. "Tell that to my uncle who seems very keen on slitting my throat. Now _you_ need to open your eyes. I didn't turn on anyone. Pansy screwed up, she got punished. Fiona offered to prove her worth, well she's proving it. People get what they deserve and what they ask for. As for you, you're asking for a curse straight to the heart. So, have you got anything else to say?"

Adrian's sweating brow was back. His gaze never left Draco's though, and he slowly shook his head.

"Good. Now go find Flint. Patrolling starts soon."

* * *

Fiona felt very much like a stalker. Shortly after breakfast she had set out on her task to look after Gavin as she had been doing for the past two days and, although easy, it was dreadfully boring. She did her job at a distance, just as Draco had said, and she watched her fellow ally do the most mundane things. He took inventory in his shoppe. He stood behind his counter and helped customers. He used his wand to dust off various knickknacks. He even cleaned. He did personal shopping around town. He went to the pub and avoided eye-contact with Georgie and remained rude to Andy as he barked his order to the man.

Fiona was sure, that somewhere throughout the day, that Gavin knew she was following him. It wasn't because he wasn't a dimwit. Quite frankly she wasn't really trying all that hard to be inconspicuous. Not to mention that she'd been working closely with the half-blood for the past few months and he could recognize her gait from his periphery much like she could do with his. And, of course, he must have been privy to the plan that Draco was so adamant about keeping from her.

It still irked her nerves that she was being kept in the dark, and the sooner she bettered herself at Occlumency the better off she'd be. For now, Fiona took up her position in the shadows of a neighboring building as she watched Gavin close up his shoppe for the night. She'd been at this bodyguard thing for hours and, to her surprise, she'd much rather be with everyone else and drinking herself into oblivion. Luckily, Draco had said that when Gavin headed home that she could meet everyone at the pub. At that she could only chuckle. Gavin never left the pride and joy that was his place of vending until an absurd two a.m. –whether or not it was a night to talk to the resistance, like tonight. It was funny then, how the man put under her care was tidying up his shoppe and now leaving it when it was only eleven p.m. _and_ on the night of an ally meeting pow-wow.

Despite a likely tongue-lashing from her probing, Fiona made it her business to badger Draco about his plan the moment they all returned to the castle. Because aside from Gavin's stray from normal behavior, her peers' behaviors had changed as well. They never stayed so late at the pub. At most it was ten p.m., everyone piss drunk or on their way to it with the exception of herself and Draco so that they could take on her Occlumency lessons with a clear head. But tonight, so she could see through the pub's windows as she made her way down the street, even Draco had succumbed to the deceptive hands of inebriation.

Fiona's lips fixed themselves in the form of a scowl as she continued on her way until an arm grabbed hers and roughly pulled her away.

"Hey!" She shouted. The man who had grabbed her was holding on tightly and soon she found herself wedged between an alley wall and her abductor. Well, he was more like a dangerous nuisance, or so Draco had once referred to him. "What do you want, Rabastan?"

"Information would be nice." He replied with a grin and showing off yellow teeth (a few of them missing).

Fiona stared at him with a mix of confusion, surprise, and disgust. "Information? Information on what?"

"On why you've been following that shoppe keeper all day." Rabastan told her, taking a small step forward that made her practically mold her body to the wall behind her. He smiled some at their proximity. "You can do surveillance alright, but you forget to watch out for yourself _much_ too easily."

Fiona huffed. "I'm just doing my job."

"A job that neither I nor my brother gave to you. So, do I have to ask who gave you such a task that you failed miserably at, or are you going to be a good girl and tell me outright?"

Fiona bit the inside of her jaw. Along with the job to watch Gavin, Draco had also given her permission to rat him out if it became necessary. Although she had been given the okay, it still tore her up on the inside having to do it - _especially_ because of the way Rabastan's eyes lit up.

"Did he now?" Rabastan said with a quick, hungry swipe of his upper lip. "Someone's forgetting that he no longer runs Edinburgh Castle. My brother would just _love_ to teach that boy a lesson."

Anger flooded through Fiona instantly and she gave Rabastan a good, hard shove. He didn't go far, considering he was a man much taller and bigger in size than she, but it put enough distance between them to satisfy her.

"Teach him a lesson?" Fiona repeated. "For what? Draco's only doing what _your brother_ wants. To find out information on the resistance!"

"Perhaps," he shrugged. "But he's doing it in a way that's undermining his master and that's not acceptable."

Fiona stuttered. "Master? _Master?_ Humph, I didn't know that Rodolphus equated himself to the Dark Lord. I'm sure that our _true_ master would love to hear about that."

Rabastan growled and shot out a hand that tightly wrapped around Fiona's throat. She gasped in shock and stared wide-eyed. "I'd watch your tongue if I were you."

Rabastan made sure to apply a bit of pressure before letting her go and watching her drop to her knees. He laughed then and left her panting for breath on the dirty ground. She utterly _abhorred_ that man and couldn't wait until he was dead. Unfortunately it wouldn't be by her hand seeing as Bill had called dibs a year ago.

"As much as I hate to admit it, Rabastan's right." Draco's voice appeared out of nowhere as he walked towards her. "You have quite the tendency to neglect your own arse when you're watching someone else's. That'll get you killed one day."

Fiona fumed viciously from where she sat and glared at him harshly. "Draco Malfoy, I could murder you!"

"Oh, come now, that's not very nice." He smiled.

" _Draco,-_ "

"I'm sorry." Draco apologized, although his smile didn't vanish and he seemed to be grinning even more as he helped her up. "But if it's any consolation you handled yourself very well."

Fiona sneered. "I shouldn't have had to, you bastard. Care to tell me why my nearly being choked to death was necessary?"

Draco shook his head. "You know I can't tell you that."

" _ **You rat-faced-!**_ "

"When you can push me out of your mind in three seconds or less then, _and only then_ , will you be told everything."

Fiona wanted to slap him and slap him hard. Draco watched, very much amusedly, as the emotions in her face shifted, waxed, and waned. With a guttural groan she nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. "Can I talk to Ginny tonight?"

Draco nodded. He had made it a point for neither she nor Gavin to talk the resistance on Sunday so that Georgie could relay the plan. He knew he couldn't keep them (particularly Fiona) away from them forever, and so he added, "If you get stumped on anything they ask you, let Georgie take over and follow his lead when it counts, got it?"

"Fine." She replied gloomily as she peered into the pub yet again. "I guess there's no Occlumency lessons tonight."

"On the contrary," he said as he urged her to take the front entrance into the pub while he went around back. "I'm almost halfway to being sloshed. If you can't push me out when I'm not at my best, then we have _a lot_ of work to get done."

* * *

Georgie watched the clock that hung in Andy's hidey-hole as he did every Sunday and Thursday. It seemed that the damn thing sped up at every part of the day, but when it was the hour going on to one a.m. it decided to go at a snail's pace.

He rolled his eyes as the clock ticked and its sound resonated off the walls. When it was time, Georgie muttered the incantation and waved his hand at it. The others would use wands to do this, but seeing as he didn't have one, wandless magic had become his best friend.

In the mirror there were more faces than he had seen on Sunday. It was divided up into threes: the bottom was Gavin, the middle was Fiona, and on the top third held an array of faces that Georgie recognized as the entire Order. Their mirror must've been put in a position so they all could be seen.

"Well," Ginny began. "I'm glad to know that everyone's alive to see yet another meeting. Fiona, we've discussed this plan of yours at great length."

Fiona tried not to look as surprised as she was. She was currently in Draco's bedroom, having just finished their Occlumency lesson, and she could feel his stare from across the room. She cleared her throat and urged the redhead on. "And?"

"And," Ginny said after taking a deep breath and releasing it. "We'll do it."

"But under one condition." Charlie cut in. Fiona raised her brow.

"That condition being?"

"Malfoy dies right along with Rodolphus."

Georgie couldn't hold in his gasp. Gavin, although still not Draco's biggest fan, paled. Fiona stiffened incredibly, but not more so than the blond she could now see in her peripheral vision.

"Dies?" Fiona repeated. "But-?"

"He's supposed to regain power here." Georgie covered. "That was the plan."

"We can't risk it."

" _Some_ of us disagree." Hermione muttered loudly.

"And you were out-voted." Charlie said matter-of-factly. "Six to five."

Fiona was impressed by the numbers, but she didn't say anything about it.

"We have the chance to eliminate two major threats in addition to the rest of You-Know-Who's followers. We can't risk it."

"And there's nothing I can say to change your minds?" Fiona asked. Her eyes drifted to the middle and bottom of the mirror and noted with discouragement that both Gavin and Georgie were shaking their heads. She even saw Draco doing it.

"Six to five," Charlie repeated and Fiona sighed.

"What else did you guys decide?"

"A location, date, and time." Ginny said.

"You figured all of that out already?" Gavin questioned. "Nicely done."

Fiona felt her anger come back. Gavin _did_ know of the plan. Merlin, she really was the only one who didn't-

"Sunday, seven p.m., London."

Georgie furrowed his brow. "London?"

"At our old base, to be more precise." Dean beamed, and just about everyone's brows nearly shot off their heads.

" _London?_ " Fiona exclaimed. "You want to go back to _London?_ Of all the places!"

"It's a bit crazy, yes." Seamus explained. "But there's no place we know better."

Gavin scratched his head. "I suppose. But just how are you going to get there and back? Oh, wait… Ace?"

"Ace," Ginny nodded.

"Ace sure would do it." Fiona agreed. "I guess...that's it then?"

"Seems like it." Georgie said. "Fiona just has to work things out on her end."

"Does everything sound okay, Fiona?" Ginny asked. "Is there anything we absolutely need to change?"

"Uh…" She trailed and then was nearly startled when Draco stood before her and shook his head. "No. Everything's good. We'll...talk again one a.m. Sunday to make sure everything's still on track." She added at Draco's prodding.

Ginny smiled. "Great. Sunday just may be a great victory for us."

Everyone in the Order cheered. Gavin and Georgie smiled –Fiona too, figuring that she should fall in line. With that the conversation ended and the mirror was back to being a normal piece of glass. Fiona sighed a breath of relief and then spotted Draco as he sat on the edge of his bed, his face solemn and hard from his teeth-clenching.

She frowned. "You should have let me tell them about you."

"No." Draco said firmly. "It's obvious Granger didn't do it or Johnson, and if that's the case then there's a reason why."

"But-"

"It's _settled_ , Carrow."

Fiona zipped her lip then. Instead she sighed and ran a shaky hand through her hair. "It's going to be a bloodbath on Sunday, isn't it?"

"Yes." Draco replied simply. "Hopefully not theirs."

"Or yours,"

Draco robotically nodded. "Or mine,"

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, looks like Draco's head's on a chopping block o_0. Also, his detached nature about Fiona getting attacked was priceless. So in control our lovely Slytherin is ;)

Shout out to all of you for helping this story to make 100 reviews! Thank you! :D

-WP


	19. Preparations

Draco had been summoned to see his uncle before breakfast. Although he had been bitter about it as he walked down the halls, he had expected it. After the little confrontation between Fiona and Rabastan, he knew that the little snitch would run to his brother. Frankly, he was surprised that he hadn't been called that very night. But then again, Draco knew his uncle's thought process and he knew it well. The man had wanted to lull him into a false sense of security, to make him feel like he was in control and then rip said control right from under him. Little did the old man know that his nephew had all the control in the world.

"You wanted to see me?" Draco said politely as he walked into the study his uncle was using as an office. Rodolphus turned dark eyes on him. The blond tried not to smile sardonically.

"Come in, Draco, and have a seat."

"I'd rather stand." He replied as he closed the door after him. His uncle scowled.

" _Sit._ "

Draco huffed and sat down as instructed. "Is there a problem, Uncle? You seem…" he smiled some. "Stressed."

"Oh, I am." Rodolphus admitted as he sat straighter in his chair. "And _you_ are the cause."

"Am I now?"

"Don't get cheeky." Rodolphus sneered. "You have yet to learn your place _boy_ and you _will_ learn it."

"I stopped being a 'boy' years ago, Uncle." Draco said with a sneer of his own. He soon replaced it with a calm face as this whole conversation needed to play out in his favor. For that, he had to be the bigger man. "What exactly have I done to upset you?"

"You had that Carrow girl follow that shoppe owner yesterday."

"Yes, I did. And?"

"And while initiative is appreciated from others, it is _not_ appreciated from you."

Draco snorted. "I was only doing what you asked of me and my fellows to do. Would you like me to _not_ do my job just because I'm making moves that you didn't think to do yourself? In fact, what have you done since being here? Vague orders, certainly, leaving me to plan every move of everyone here just as I'd always done." Draco let his sneer return as he leaned back in his chair. "Your time here is a waste."

Rodolphus whipped out his wand quickly and aimed it at the young man before him. Draco, on the other hand, hadn't moved. Even with his uncle's wand pointed at his face he didn't flinch. In fact he wanted to laugh. This was working out better than he had originally planned.

"Is that all you wanted from me? To tell me to stop excelling in my work and to curse me?"

Rodolphus' hold on his wand tightened. He wanted to do it. Draco could tell that he wanted to harm him, if not outright kill him, very badly. He assumed the only reason the older man didn't do it was because he wasn't sure how to make his nephew's death look like an accident or the fault of someone else. That and because he had yet to ask him the question he had called the blond for in the first place.

"What did your little tramp find out?"

Draco was surprised at two things. First and foremost, that Rodolphus had called Fiona "his" tramp. Second, that he had called her a tramp at all. The first face that came to mind when he thought of that adjective was Pansy, not Fiona. In fact, he would bet money that she had only ever slept with one person –her boyfriend that had been murdered. Innocent is what he would describe her as, and it grated heavily on Draco's nerves that his uncle would disrespect her in such a way.

"Nothing," he answered. "In fact I'm sure that Gavin wouldn't have said or done anything worthwhile considering that he knew he was being watched."

Rodolphus eyed him curiously. "How do you know that?"

"I had my own eyes on Fiona at various times throughout the day. Her surveillance methods are laughable, although an easy fix. With that said, I wouldn't trust a single thing the man said. It could easily lead to our downfall."

His uncle seemed contemplative. The longest minute of Draco's life passed by before Rodolphus ordered him to get out. He obliged and walked out of the study, already seeing these next few days unfolding like clockwork.

* * *

Gavin had broken three of the priceless items he sold in his shoppe for the day and he was well on his way to breaking a third. With an agitated sigh he set aside the vase he had been trying to shine with a cloth. Granted he could've used his wand, but it finished the job much too quickly and he needed something to take his mind off of… _things_.

As an ally Gavin always faced the danger of being found out. An escape plan could always go wrong and he might not be able to get out without being seen. Those things, however, he was used to. They were close calls and very dangerous missions, but he could navigate an escape route blind at this point. What he wasn't used to, and what he was about to be subjected to as the door to his shoppe opened and the source of hesitance and uncertainty came in, was being face to face with a Deatheater. Gavin was more an…indirect fighter against the Dark side. Now that he wasn't his body was dripping off sweat as big as raindrops.

"Gavin, is it?" Rodolphus addressed as he performed a Locking Charm on the door. Gavin swallowed.

"Y-yes. How may I help you, Mr…?"

"Lestrange," he turned to him and slowly walked over. " _Deatheater_ Lestrange. You, however, may call me 'Sir.'"

"Yes, Sir."

Rodolphus smiled. "Good. Now let's get down to business, shall we?"

"Business, Sir?"

"Oh yes, business. I don't expect you to remember me seeing as you were Imperiused the last time you were in Deatheater presence. Let's make sure that we don't have a repeat performance."

Gavin instinctively shut his eyes when Rodolphus pulled out his wand and performed a spell to detect if the Imperius Curse had been put on him. It hadn't been, and the man put down his wand with a satisfied grunt.

"It seems that you're in your right mind." He said with glee. "Now, what do you know of the resistance?"

Gavin feigned ignorance. "The resistance? But I don't know anything about-"

" _Don't lie_. I have it on very good authority that you know something."

"Good authority? I'm just a shoppe owner!"

" _And_ _a spy_." Rodolphus hissed as he raised his wand yet again. "If not a spy, you've heard a rumor, or you know of some detail that could be of use to me. My authority is rarely wrong and you _will_ tell me either on your own or with the help of the Cruciatus Curse. Your choice."

"...I-I'm not a spy." Gavin started. "But I… I _might_ have heard that a few resistance members plan on going to London."

"London? Why on earth would they be going to London?"

"I don't know; I swear I don't. It's only what I heard."

"Hmm. And what else did you hear?"

Gavin stared at him nervously. "A day and possible time?"

Roldolphus grinned evilly. "That's a good man, Gavin."

And a good man he was. Draco stood in an underground hidey-hole much like the one in Andy's pub/inn as he listened to his uncle question Gavin. He had his own wand in hand, ready to disarm Rodolphus and wipe his memory clean if things got a little too rough. Luckily it hadn't been necessary. There had been a chance that his uncle would kill him, but if he was smart –and sometimes he was –he wouldn't have. Gavin was a treasure-trove of information and to just kill a link between them and the resistance would've been the stupidest move to ever make.

Well, second stupidest.

Had it been Draco he would've threatened Gavin not to go blabbing about what he'd just divulged. Even better, he would've Imperiused him to make him more compliant. Or better yet a Lip-Locker Curse so he couldn't tell anyone anything he didn't want getting out. Yes, that would've been better than Rodolphus just walking out of the shoppe with, most likely, a smug look on his face.

Gavin was pretty damn lucky that Draco didn't live up to his Deatheater title.

* * *

"Did you see how happy your uncle looked when he left?" Blaise asked as he poured himself a shot. Draco did. Rodolphus was exiting the pub just as he, Blaise, Theo, Goyle, Fiona, Adrian, and Marcus were entering. He did, indeed, look quite pleased with himself.

"Think he got laid?" Marcus posed the question. Everyone paused their movements, looked at each other, and then laughed hysterically.

"And they say there's no such thing as a stupid question." Theo shook his head. "I still want to know what's got him in such a good mood, though. Happiness for people like him usually means misery for the rest of us."

"My guess is that he's got good news to tell the Dark Lord tomorrow." Draco said as he sipped on Butterbeer. Goyle leaned forward some, but directed his question to Fiona.

"So you found something on him then?"

"I didn't find anything." Fiona admitted. "Rodolphus probably went to Gavin on his own."

Goyle looked to Draco in surprise. "It's not like you to let people in on your plans. Well, people you hate anyway."

"And I didn't. Rabastan attacked her and dragged the information out of her."

"He did _what?_ " Adrian said in shock. Draco peered at him over his glass, making several mental notes as he continued to watch him. "Deatheaters attacking Deatheaters. We're _supposed_ to be looking out for our own!"

"It is what it is." Draco said nonchalantly, earning yet another death glare from Adrian. He ignored it. "Regardless, my uncle must've heard something that he liked. At least none of us will be tortured tomorrow."

Rounds of "thank Merlin" went around the table as drinking continued, and they all drank enough to become properly impaired –well, everyone except Draco and Fiona. Georgie had already disappeared from his usual seat and soon Draco was up and out of his chair. Fiona followed shortly after and closed the hatch behind her.

"I can't let you know the whole plan, but this part you really need to know." Draco said. Fiona nodded, slightly angry that, yet again, she'd found out that someone else knew of such an elaborate plan. "Weasley's going back to the resistance on Sunday."

Fiona's mouth fell into a perfect "O." "He...what? How?"

"I'm going to implant the idea into my uncle's head to take him out on the battlefield with us. That's where you two come in. Fiona, I don't want to think the worst, but just in case, I _need_ you to make sure Weasley gets into their hands. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Georgie –and Fiona, I guess you too –is there a way to contact the resistance on a day that isn't Thursday or Sunday?"

"I suppose there's the mirror." Georgie said. "But if it's not on one of our scheduled days, the odds of them hearing us is pretty low. Ginny keeps the mirror tucked away when it's not in use."

"Damn," Draco swore. "And you honestly have no other methods?"

"Sorry, Draco." Fiona frowned before turning to Georgie. "If only we had one of their coins."

"Coins?" Draco repeated with curiosity. "What coins?"

"Every Order member has one." Fiona explained. "They allow them to talk to each other. Short messages, of course, but messages nonetheless."

Everything clicked for Draco right that second. He'd always wondered what significance were of those coins that Ron had had. Now he knew, and he was more than grateful for having taken them from him on that fateful day.

"Coins it is." He said with a smile. "I have two of them. Nicked them from Weasley the day we captured him.

Fiona stared at him blankly. "Well, I guess being a thief has its advantages sometimes. You must have his and Hermione's."

"Granger's?"

Fiona nodded. "Every Order member has a next of kin, if you will. If something happens to you, then your coin goes to that designated person."

"Are you sure?" Draco questioned. "Because last I checked Granger was still alive."

"Not the day of that fight. You remember it as well as I do, Draco. She'd been beaten and tortured terribly. For Ron to have _both_ of those coins? Hermione definitely died that day, she just didn't stay that way."

A lump formed in Draco's throat at the thought of Hermione dead. He had been the one to do it –to see if she was dead or not. His mother had told the truth to Voldemort when he had asked her if Harry Potter was dead. And it was in that forest that he had met his end. As Draco had approached the badly injured girl, his classmate, he wondered what he would do if she had somehow survived. There were several spells that mimicked death, but everyone had been watching. _The Dark Lord_ had been watching. Luckily he hadn't had to lie. He hadn't felt or seen anything. No pulse. No air from her nose. No rise or fall in her chest. Two years later and seeing her alive, it had made him think that he had been mistaken. But with the coins… No, she had died, and Hermione Granger came back fierce and deadly, yet still loyal and trustworthy, and, unfortunately, crazed.

"Draco," Giselle said his name.

His insides turned. _Speaking of crazed…_

"Draco? _Draco?_ Snap out of it!"

"What?" Draco said almost breathlessly. He blinked several times only to see both Fiona and Georgie staring at him with concern. It made his stomach turn even more so.

"I asked, what did you want to talk to the Order before schedule for." Georgie told him, his concern obviously mounting. Draco took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face.

"Not all of them. Just Johnson. I need someone to know about Weasley so it's not a complete surprise, but not all of themin case he becomes their main priority. She can have the task of getting to him and getting him out."

"I'll use Ron's coin to talk to her." Fiona said. Draco nodded and swallowed, _hard_. Anything to make Giselle's form in the corner of the room to disappear.

* * *

Hermione had never had the luxury of meeting Ace before, but had learned through her friends that he had been the one to thank for the vanishing cabinet.

"Ace is a travel genius." Seamus had told her with glee. He could get anyone from anywhere with the right amount of time presented to him. Apparently he used to work for the Ministry –a pureblood with a non-pureblood mindset –within the Department of International Travel. He'd been a Senior worker there and had been responsible for arranging and approving travel methods for political dignitaries and for mass meetings –like the Quiditch World Cup, for example.

Once Voldemort had taken power Ace had dove into action by first configuring a way to get his muggle wife and two half-blood children out of England. Then he got his wife's family out. Then friends. Then refugees. Soon, instead of joining his family he wrote to them, sent it off with a Speed Owl and told them how much he loved them and that he had do his part in this war by helping people find an escape when they needed it.

This man –this utter _genius_ , to use Seamus' description –could turn anything he put his hands on into a portkey within fifteen minutes. He could repair a vanishing cabinet within a day and build his own within three. He could break anti-apparation wards in under five minutes and imbue magic in a pebble to apparate within said wards in two. Ace was a key player in this war and it was to him they had turned to arrange for portkeys to take them to and from London.

"Is he coming here to the base?" Hermione asked Padma as she followed her and Percy outside of the dome-shaped hide-out and outside into hilly lands that resembled those around Edinburgh Castle. She had found out that the new base was in Pentland Hills Regional Park. It was a massive area and absolutely perfect to hide away in.

"He's coming to the park, but not necessarily to the base." Padma explained.

"He likes to have a good idea of where we are so he can always be there to help, but not so much in case he ever gets caught." Percy added as he held out his hand to Hermione. They (she and Percy) had just walked outside of the protective. Padma had stayed behind in order to pull them back in, otherwise, there was no way for them to get back inside.

One apparation later and Hermione still found herself in a grassy, hilly land, and honestly it looked no different than where they had just left. The only difference was the presence of a good-looking man who, based on the information told about him, looked ten years younger than he was. With brown hair and a few distinguished-looking grey streaks, dark-grey eyes, dimples, a healthy smile, and a muscular build, Hermione was seconds away from wishing the man wasn't married nor old enough to be her father.

"Miss Hermione Granger," Ace said with the hint of an Irish accent as he stretched out his hand. "I'm Ace Hardwick. When Arthur told me there was a surprise for me when I came, I certainly didn't think it would be this. An honor, truly."

"Thank you," Hermione replied with a bit of a flush in her cheeks. _And_ the man had the nerve to smile even more broadly when they shook hands.

"Percy," Ace addressed with a firm hand.

"Good to see you, Ace. Any trouble making it?"

"None whatsoever. You should know though that there are even more Snatchers in the area than before." Ace turned his attention to Hermione. "Am I to assume you're the reason why? You are supposed to be dead after all."

"I guess I am part of the reason." Hermione admitted. "But not because the Deatheaters recognized me. They just think I'm some blond resistance member who got away with her friend."

Ace gave a strong, throaty laugh. "Right, right. Excellent then. Make them chase their arses for a bit, yeah?"

Hermione smiled as Ace slipped off a rucksack she didn't realize that he'd been carrying. Once it was on the grass he got down to his knees and began rummaging through it.

"You need to get in and out of London, so I've got some portkeys that'll become ready for transport on the day and time you asked for. The ones to bring you back _won't_ take you straight to the base." Ace looked up at Percy and Hermione in turn. "You and the others know this, yes?"

Percy nodded. "We do. Dean is working with Gavin to finalize escape routes from the various departure points."

"Good. This bag has the ones for going." Ace handed it to Percy. "And this one has the ones for coming back." He handed that one to Hermione. "Now these are the backup plans."

Hermione held out her hand for a button that he placed in her palm. "The portkeys to bring you back will activate at eight-thirty p.m., _sharp_. But in case you miss it, take the button in your hand, disapparate, and it'll bring you to different locations in Edinburgh. For an added safety measure, they'll disintegrate by midnight that night. Make sure to alert your ally network in case some of you need to go through that way.

'And these," Ace grinned as he plucked a stone out of his rucksack. "These are just for fun. Since you said you're putting up anti-apparation wards, these will let you do it. Not long distance, but it should be fun to be fighting a Deatheater and apparating right behind him to deal a blow to the back of the head. Just a suggestion."

Percy laughed. "We can always count on you for a little something extra."

"For my favorite people? Always,"

"I wish there was a proper way to thank you." Hermione said as she placed the button in another bag Ace gave her. He shook his head and rose to his feet, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder.

"Kill as many of them as you can." Ace told her. "That's the only thank you I need. It was a pleasure, Miss Granger. Percy,"

"Until next time, Ace." Percy bid farewell and Ace disapparated with a stone of his own in his hand. The two resistance members were gone as well and once they were in the vicinity of the base, Percy made sure to point out certain markers in case Hermione ever had to come back alone. Once that was done Hermione was staring amusedly at two hands seemingly jutting out in midair. She shook her head and gave Padma her hand while Percy clutched her other. They were both pulled through and Percy began leading the way to the common area where they said they'd meet everyone.

"So," Padma said to Hermione in a low whisper. "On a scale from one to ten, Ace was…?"

Hermione chuckled. "An eleven,"

"Absolutely. Too bad he's married."

"With kids,"

Padma shrugged. "You know, I could actually get over that part."

"What are you two talking about back there?" Percy asked.

"Nothing," both women answered, shortly succumbing to laughter to the man's utter confusion.

* * *

After getting briefed on everything that Ace had given them Angelina slipped out and hurried her way to Ginny's bedroom. She only had five minutes (at best), and she needed to talk to Fiona and Draco _immediately_.

And so, she silenced the room, locked it, and dug out the mirror from Ginny's not-so-secret hiding place. Once the incantation was muttered she saw the two faces she wanted to see and before either of them could say anything she choked out, almost in a sob:

"Ron's alive?"

Fiona didn't say anything. She had just used Ron's coin to contact her, knowing just how frantic and confused the witch would be. Tears began to slide down Angelina's face before it contorted in anger.

"You've been with us for almost the entire war." She said to Fiona. "And not _once_ did you tell us that he was still alive. How could you do that? We could've saved him! He could be here with us!"

Fiona was still silent on the matter and Draco took the mirror from her. "Don't be mad at her. The Dark Lord considered Weasley our biggest asset. He didn't want any of his followers blabbing so he put a Lip-Locker Curse on us. Well, the ones he trusted the least. There was nothing she could've done."

"What about you then?" Angelina shot at him. "If you're so 'good' why didn't you say something at Andy's? Why didn't you tell Hermione?"

"Because you people don't know how to bloody focus, that's why. Had you known, all you would've cared about would've been getting him back."

"Of course! He's our family!"

"And there's a bigger picture!" Draco argued. "Family's all fine and everything, but sacrifice means doing what's best for the world rather than yourself."

"But-"

"You know I'm right."

Angelina clamped her mouth shut. Draco sighed and closed his eyes briefly.

"It might not make up for much," he began, "but I wanted to get Weasley to you long before this. I just couldn't find you."

"There was London."

"And you were at a disadvantage. I couldn't risk it."

"Angelina," Fiona said hesitantly. "The past can't be changed. At least he… he…"

"He's alive." Draco finished. "Just make sure you get to him. I'm giving you a pass on Sunday about that whole bigger picture thing. You find him, and then you get the hell out of there."

Angelina shook her head. "War is…war is tricky. I need someone else to know so in case something happens to me Ron can still be reached. I'll tell Hermione and Ginny-"

"No!" Draco half-shouted. Both Angelina and Fiona looked taken aback. Even Draco himself was embarrassed. He cleared his throat and said, calmly this time, "No. You can let the redhead know, but Granger… He'll distract her."

Angelina stiffened. She brought the mirror closer and said in a near whisper, "Does it have anything to do with why she's acting…well…"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What do you know?"

"What do _you_ know?"

"It's not my place to say." He answered honestly. "It's just… It's better if she doesn't know. Not yet. Can you do that?"

Angelina nodded. Shortly after that the mirror was void of her face and the two people on the other side were silent. That is until Fiona broke it with, "Is Hermione alright?"

Draco hid his fidgeting and as well as a sharp inhale when he saw Giselle in the corner of the room. "That's enough Occlumeny for the night." He said, completely ignoring her question. "We'll resume tomorrow."

"Draco,-"

"Is Pucey an ally?"

Fiona paused in surprise. "Adrian? 'I love being a Deatheater' Adrian? No. Besides I told you who all the allies were around here. Why?"

"He just seemed concerned for _my_ personal lack of concern for your well-being recently."

Fiona eyed him warily. "What did you do?"

"It was more of a matter of what I said." Draco clarified. "Pucey had turned into quite the bodyguard over you."

At that Fiona laughed. "Bodyguard? Right. Before the war started I could see that, but now? No. He's not my friend anymore." She frowned. "He's just another Deatheater."

Draco stared at Fiona as her body posture waned and she took up her wand in preparation to leave his room. She may have had her thoughts about him, but Adrian Pucey was _not_ just another Deatheater.

* * *

 **Author's note:** *in a sing-songy voice* Rodolphus is getting desperate. Needlessly to say, this is the "calm" before the storm. The next chapter means war…

Thanks for keeping up with me/the story folks!

-WP


	20. Bleed Outs

"I really wish you were staying behind."

Hermione stared at Ginny like the woman had sprouted a third arm. "You honestly can't expect me to do that. I've waited all this time to be with everyone again, and I _refuse_ to sit on the sidelines."

Hermione turned to pick up her wand and missed the look that Ginny threw to Angelina behind her back.

"Mirror?"

"Here," Ginny offered. Hermione used it so that she could properly see what she was doing. Despite heading out with the others, everyone was in agreement that she should go in disguise. And so, there she went with the blond hair and freckles.

"Are you sure you don't want something different?" Angelina asked. "Nott seemed to have a hard on for you with that one."

"Good. When he's focused on me, one of you take him out."

"My pleasure," Ginny smiled evilly. "He killed Hannah nearly a year ago."

Hermione nodded in comprehension and smiled at her new, yet familiar appearance. She began patting herself down with everything that she needed. _Portkey going, right pocket. Portkey coming back, left pocket. Button for the backup plan, right back pocket. Stone for fun, left back pocket._

"Everyone's waiting," came Arthur's voice. All three women turned to him and nodded.

"Are you sure you don't mind staying here at the base?" Hermione asked him. Arthur smiled warmly.

"You deserve your chance to wreak a little havoc." He told her. "I'll be here when you get back. When you _all_ get back. Make me proud."

* * *

Draco stood in the foyer of Malfoy Manor with a group of Voldemort's followers. All those of his generation were ordered to go on this mission. That included those already in Edinburgh Castle under Rodolphus' leadership as well as others –the Greengrass sisters to be precise. As he took in their prim and proper nature and their slender yet curvy figures from the corner of his eye, he admitted to himself that he'd be sad to see them go. Aside from them a few of the older cohort were also along for the ride –Rodolphus, Bellatrix, Dolohov, Yaxley, and, unfortunately, his father. The qualms Draco had with seeing any of these people dead ranged from very low to moderately high –with the exception of Fiona, of course. She was absolutely on the "can't die" list. As for his father, the blond young man found himself conflicted. He was as vicious as the rest of them, but the man was still his father. The man was also his mother's husband and Draco knew that she would simply fall apart without him. It was perhaps for his mother's sake (and maybe just a _tiny bit_ for himself) that he would try, although not do his utmost best, to keep his father alive.

"Make sure you use him to his full capacity." Voldemort said, his wand pointing to Ron who also stood with them. Draco smiled just as the rest of the Deatheaters in the room but for a whole different reason.

That part of the plan had gone effortlessly on Friday when Rodolphus had brought him, Theo, and Goyle along to present to their leader the progress they had been making. The "children" hadn't said anything, of course, because this had been Rodolphus' time to shine. He didn't mention how Draco had had Gavin followed, or the fact that Gavin was now "missing," having officially fled town. He didn't mention his nephew's misgivings about taking what the shoppe keeper had had to say as truth. Nor did he mention how it had been Draco to put the thought into his head about bringing Ron out to play. Rodolphus was the pure definition of a glory-sucker and his lack of humility would be his ultimate downfall.

"Go." Voldemort ordered. "Make me proud. And remember, one of them comes back with you _alive_."

Draco pulled out his coin designated for long-distance apparating and fingered it. He took a side-long glance at Fiona whose hand had been inside her cloak pocket for the better part of Voldemort's preparatory speech. The message had already been written out, and as they had agreed, she had used Ron's coin to let the others know that they were on their way. And then every Deatheater disapparated one by one. Fiona, Draco, and Ron were the last ones to arrive, and when they had the battle was already well on its way.

* * *

Hermione hadn't been at the London base since she and Ron had left for their mission. What they had left behind had been a huge building with many wings. Now, however, had been reduced to nothing but burned walls and ash. Truth be told it didn't look safe for anyone to walk in, but as she travelled barely recognizable halls she could see that the main structure was still intact. Although one good blow to the building's core could send it crumbling without a doubt.

And that's what they wanted.

Hermione smiled broadly as she shook up a potion she had taken from the stock pile of the Pentland base. She used her wand to lodge it in the top corner of one of the building's beams. She did the same thing to another one of the potions when she found an equally prime spot for the explosive to do its work. Once she was done she headed outside and took up her position like the others had done. Unlike the base in Edinburgh, there were no hills. There was no grass. There were streets and there were buildings, and it was in one of the alleys between two tall buildings that she was hiding with Ginny by her side.

"One minute," she heard Ginny say. They'd been there for an hour, familiarizing themselves with the territory and putting those explosives in the right spots. Now that it was over, now that there was less than a minute before the big showdown happened, Hermione looked back at her companion and all at once her nerves hit.

"Don't let them kill him." Hermione said. Pleaded was more like it. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she had to do it. She took Ginny by the shoulders and said again, "I know there are no guarantees in war, but you _have_ to honor this one. Don't let anyone kill Malfoy."

Ginny didn't get the chance to answer her. The sound of apparation hit their ears and they brought their attention to their old base.

"Some of you head inside!" Bellatrix ordered. "One of them could be in there! Why else would they come back?"

Hermione turned to Ginny and mouthed, "The Hallows."

Ginny nodded as the grip on her wand tightened. The two of them watched as Yaxley, Dolohov, and Lucius Malfoy headed into the building. Others tried to follow –Marcus Flint, Blaise Zabini, and Adrian Pucey to be precise, but Bellatrix stopped them. She told them to fan out and check the surrounding area. Hermione's heart raced as they did what they were told.

Time slowed.

Time stopped actually.

And then everything came to a screeching halt when the sound of bombs went off one at a time. What was left of their old base began to crumble and only one of the Deatheaters –Draco's father –came running out of it before the building caved in on itself.

"It's a trap!" Theo shouted and that's when the first streaks of light from the resistance started flying and when Hermione ran out with Ginny at her heels.

* * *

Draco yanked Fiona and Ron down before a spell collided with them and blew them all to smithereens. Draco snarled at the fact that it was Charlie, the very man who had been so keen on taking him out.

"Go to the spot I told you about and find Angelina," he ordered Ron. "Do _not_ kill her. Do whatever she says. Don't hurt anyone else."

Ron nodded and bolted.

"Don't get killed!" Fiona said to Draco before she took off. It was easier said than done, of course, when everyone seemed to have deemed you number one on their hit list.

Draco shielded himself from a spell –a curse really –that he had seen before. It was meant to melt your skin off and, seeing it as a perfect opportunity, his specific shield of choice redirected itself and towards his aunt. He was too distracted by a Hermione-like fireball jetting his way to see if the spell had actually hit her. Considering that he was hearing screams that didn't belong to her that was a no.

Draco dodged behind a building, the tail end of his cloak catching on fire. He cursed, using his wand to put it out.

"It's not like you to hide, Malfoy." Came Dean's voice. Draco looked at him and sneered.

"Who said I was hiding?"

Dean smiled and aimed his wand at him. Draco had his wand flourished and a spell out of his mouth long before the man at the other end of the alley could get his out. Dean was knocked back and he yelled as he flew through the air. A quick Cushioning Charm would make sure he landed safely and Draco fled. The battle scene was interesting. Ginny was handling Blaise (well, Draco had to admit), Seamus and Padma were paired off with Marcus and Adrian. Bill was fighting Bellatrix, and by the looks of it he was losing. Charlie was dueling with his father and Draco was torn between who he wanted to win. The Greengrass sisters were unfairly dealing with Percy. Fiona and someone who looked much like that annoying kid in his Frist Year with the camera were having the best fake fight, their spells "accidentally" missing each other and hitting every enemy in sight.

It was good for Angelina, considering that Goyle had been trying to get Ron –a slightly transfigured Ron, with his hair a shade darker and his freckles missing –away from her. Goyle was sent careening through an abandoned storefront window, and Draco watched as she pressed something into Ron's hand. With a few whispered words he was nodding and then he disapparated from where he stood. Relief washed over him in that instant, but then it was completely wiped away from him when he heard Hermione scream.

* * *

Ever since Hermione came to the full realization of the extent of her insanity, she had garnered a new fear of being involved in a fight. Although she had been adamant about not staying behind in the Pentland Hills, only now did she wish she had listened to reason.

Hermione had just had the satisfaction of breaking Rodolphus' arm and was about to do a bit more lethal damage when she stopped. Across the battlefield she could see Angelina standing with someone. Said someone had bright red hair, and although his back was turned to her, she would always be able to pick out Ron's form among a crowd of a thousand people. But, he wasn't real. He _couldn't_ be real. No one else had seen him, and so he had to have been in her head. And yet, Angelina was there. She was holding onto his arm, keeping him still. She was using her wand to change his appearance. Then…then he was gone.

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes. "Ron?"

Hermione felt a spell side-swipe her and land neatly in the middle of Rodolphus' chest. The force of it sent her to the ground, but before she could get up of her own accord, a hand had grabbed her by the back of her shirt and heaved her up.

"Nice to see you again, Miss James." Theo drawled with his wand jammed into her throat. Hermione stepped on his foot and heard him yell in her ear. She turned around and scratched him in the face and watched him stagger back in glee. Her wand was ready to rip free a jet of deadly green light when she screamed.

It was that spell again. That spell from the night when she had escaped that made her feel like her back was on fire. Hermione screamed and dropped to her knees, her teeth clamped down and fighting through the searing pain. Theo was standing above her, his smile looking even more deranged with three nail marks down the side of his face as though he'd been clawed by an animal.

"The Dark Lord wants one of them alive, Blaise. We do owe Miss James one, don't we?"

"We do."

Hermione's wand was snatched away from her and her hands were bound behind her back. She was being pulled up roughly by her upper arm and being led away until she heard a voice she never thought she'd be so happy to hear.

"I'll take her." Draco said as he wrenched her from Blaise. "Join the rest of the fight and take them out."

Theo nodded. "No fun with the prisoner without us, Draco."

Hermione seethed in his direction, even more so when he blew a kiss at her. Draco dragged her along, down through an alley, pausing for a moment to wandlessly remove her binds.

"Get ready to run, Granger." Draco said. Hermione nodded and took off down the alley just as he began yelling for Theo and Blaise, claiming that she knew wandless magic. By the time she reached the end she darted left, halting to a stop when she charged right in the middle of a fight between Fiona and Lucius and Charlie and Angelina. Draco was just behind her and she knew that Theo and Blaise would be there within seconds.

Everything grew quiet. Hermione swallowed. She suddenly felt her left pocket become warm and she saw Angelina's and Charlie's faces. They felt it too. It was a ten-minute warning before the portkey would activate to take them out of there. Hermione's gaze caught everyone in front of her and only Lucius dared to make a move.

Said move was off its target as Fiona "lost her footing" and knocked into Lucius. He fell over, Fiona righted herself, and Lucius' spell hit Theo, crumpling him to the ground. Charlie aimed for Draco. Blaise aimed for Hermione. Hermione, seeing what was about to happen ran in Draco's direction.

"Hermione, no!" Angelina shouted. Lucius' mouth fell open. Angelina stunned Blaise while Fiona knocked Lucius out. Draco ignored everyone and ran forward, grabbing Hermione under her arms and allowing her to fall into him before she hit the ground with an awful thud.

"Hermione!" Charlie cried. He readied his wand again, attempting to get to Draco without hurting her with another bout of friendly fire but soon a hand was grasping his arm.

"Charlie, stop!" Angelina yelled at him. He rounded on her quickly.

"Are you crazy?!" He yelled back as he fought to shoot off another spell, but Angelina held on.

"She's right, Charlie!" Fiona said as she ran over. "Look!"

Both women forced Charlie to look at where Hermione had fallen and the man blinked rapidly in disbelief. Her upper body was resting on Draco's knees and he was cradling her in his arms.

"Granger," Draco called her name. His eyes gravitated to her wound and his stomach clenched at the amount of blood that flowed from it. "Granger. Come on now, Granger, you have to look at me. Look at me!"

Hermione fought hard to tilt her head some so that she could. She felt weak. It also didn't help that she could barely see. Maybe if she closed her eyes for a moment she could-?

"Don't you dare close your eyes." Draco ordered and she obeyed.

"Malfoy," Angelina called as she drew closer to him with Charlie and Fiona at her heels. "You have to take her."

Draco snapped his attention to her quickly. "Are you kidding me? Harboring her once was dangerous enough, but now? My father heard you; Blaise did too. They know she's alive. For me to take her-"

"The portkeys we have won't take us directly back to the base." Angelina explained. "We still have a bit of a ways to go and Ace told us that there are extra Snatchers about. Hermione doesn't have the stamina to make that trip, not to mention she could very well bleed out before we even get close. Just look at her."

Draco swallowed and did just that. She was staring up at him, the struggle to keep her eyes open evident. And her wound… It was Hestia all over again, except this time the spell hadn't cut right through. Hermione's blood was…everywhere.

"I need a distraction." He said thickly. "The others will notice that I'm gone if they haven't already."

"We'll take care of it." Charlie said with a slight croak in his voice. Tears were in his eyes but he was drawing them back impressively.

"You better get going." Fiona told them. Draco too. Then she gestured to the three Deatheaters still on the ground. "I'll handle these guys."

Draco nodded and then watched as both Charlie and Angelina ran off. Fiona gave a concerned look at the possibly dying witch in his arms and then walked away towards his father. Draco waited. The moment he heard a massive explosion that's when he disapparated to the hills of Edinburgh Castle.

* * *

Draco barged into his bedroom with Hermione laying limp in his arms. He laid her down gently, feeling like he would vomit just at the sight of her. It wasn't the fact that her stomach was open. It wasn't the fact that she was covered in blood. It wasn't even the fact that _he_ , yet again, was drenched in the stuff. It was the fact that Hermione looked dead. She looked just as dead as the last time he'd seen her after a fight and he'd be damned to live through that again.

"Polly!" Draco called. The house elf appeared in a second, bowing and ready to shower him with politeness, but Draco cut him off. "I need potions. Blood Replenishing, Sleeping Draught, Pain Potion… I don't care how you get them or where you find them. Bring them to me, now!"

"Yes, Master Malfoy!"

Draco turned back to Hermione, her disguise having faded away, and slit her shirt open. He aimed his wand at her stomach and tried to steady his shaking hand so he didn't botch the spell. "This may hurt a little, Granger."

Hermione's face went whiter than it already had gone. "The… The Pain Potion?"

Draco shook his head. "We can't wait for it." He took her hand and she held it tight as she closed her eyes. He said the spell after she gave a slight nod. "Organum Reparo,"

Hermione's scream could've pierced through walls, and had she squeezed any tighter every bone in Draco's hand would've been broken. Regardless, the spell had done its job. He began to close the wound as best as he could and almost jumped for joy when Polly came back with everything he had asked for. The Blood Replenishing Potion came first and he got it down Hermione's throat as fast as she allowed. Bandages came next and he wrapped them tightly. Once that was done he was uncorking another potion, but was stopped when someone came into his bedroom.

Draco turned his wand on the intruder but instantly dropped when it when he realized who it was. "Fiona, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Everyone's gathering at Malfoy Manor." She told him as she stared past him and at the brunette behind him. "You need to go."

"But I-" Draco looked back at Hermione who was taking shallow breaths. When he brought his attention back to Fiona she was standing directly in front of him.

"I'll stay. The Dark Lord won't notice if I'm not there, but he'll _definitely_ notice if it's you. I'll take care of her."

With a deep reluctance, Draco nodded and handed her the Pain Potion. "She needs to drink that."

"Got it, now get out of here."

Draco used his coin to disapparate and Fiona closed the door that she had failed to shut behind her. While she was doing that Hermione was thinking how odd it was that she felt uncomfortable having her upper half revealed in Fiona's presence but not in Draco's. Although, she had also been seventy-five percent sure that she was going to die when he was tending to her, and so her nakedness had been completely trivial.

Hermione laughed at that and then groaned as pain reverberated through her body.

"I'd quell that laughing if I was you." Fiona said as she drew closer. "You're not out of the woods just yet."

"I'll have to remember that." She joked grimly. "Pain Potion?"

Fiona looked at the potion in her hand, back at Hermione, and then to the potion in her hand before tilting the open bottle and letting it spill out onto the carpet. "What Pain Potion?"

Hermione's panic kicked in overdrive as the potion emptied onto the ground. Fiona chucked the bottle and began to walk over.

"Draco did a pretty good job with you." She said appraisingly. "No more bleeding. There's some color to your cheeks. You wouldn't even think you were seriously injured at all."

Hermione suddenly cried out in pain as Fiona made it to her bedside, took her hand, and pressed it onto her wound. She could feel it beginning to bleed again and it was confirmed when Fiona lifted her hand and pulled it back filled with blood stains.

"Of course, your injury was quite extensive."

"Fiona," Hermione panted. "What are you doing?"

Fiona merely smiled as she raised a wand that didn't belong to her. "You're not the only one who's good at Glamour Charms."

* * *

Malfoy Manor was chaotic. Voldemort was nowhere to be seen and neither was Rodolphus. Draco could only imagine that they were having a private, painful chat. It wouldn't be long before they both emerged, so in the meantime he calculated the damage. Dolohov and Yaxley were dead, consequences of a building falling on them. Marcus was lying flat out on the ground, also dead, half of his body eaten away.

 _So that's who got hit with the skin-melting curse…_

With the exception of those three everyone else just came back battered. At least two of Voldemort's most lethal were taken out. That was something to smile about.

"Draco, you're covered in blood."

Draco turned around abruptly with his heart about jump from his chest. "Fiona!" He hissed in a whisper. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be with Granger!"

Fiona grinned and just waved him off. "Oh, she's fine. You don't have to worry about her."

"Don't have to worry…! Did you _see_ her? Of course I'm going to worry! She-"

"Draco," Fiona laughed lightly as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "She's fine. Everything's going to be okay."

Draco gaped at her. Was she crazy? Hermione could be dying without someone tending to her and Fiona thought that she was _fine?_ She was much too calm about this!

And that's when Draco froze. Calm. Fiona was oddly…calm. He grabbed her shoulders then to keep her steady and stared into her face. Her eyes, more specifically. He'd spent much too much time around an Imperiused Weasley not to notice what someone under said curse looked like. Draco let her go and did a quick count of everyone who was there. When he finally realized who was missing, he cursed.

* * *

Theo, having now gotten rid of every charm that had given him Fiona's features, had sat on the edge of the bed. Hermione was stone stiff, unable to move unless she wanted to stress her body and bleed out. If she was going to die, she damn sure didn't want to make it easy.

"I never pegged Draco for a traitor." Theo said with a scowl. "But imagine my surprise when I came to and I saw him caring for you. Pathetic." He spat and then set his wand on the night table out of Hermione's reach. "Now Fiona, her I could've imagined. Not that I believed it until I saw her wiping Draco's father's memories, but it was a hell of a lot more plausible than my mate of over a decade.

'So when she came over to me, I turned my wand on her and Imperiused her. Made her head to Malfoy Manor with all the others and act as though everything was fine. Blaise knows the truth about you being alive." Theo added smugly. "Or at least that you _were_ once I'm through with you. And then I'll show up and let the Dark Lord know and tell him that his most favorite Deatheater is our enemy. What do you say to that, Granger?"

Hermione raised her right hand to slap him, but Theo caught it easily. He even laughed. "You're much too weak to do something like that, love. But you know," he said softly as he used his free hand to caress her cheek, his hand slowly travelling down her neck and heading towards her bare chest. "You and I never did have our moment back at the inn."

Weak or not, dominant hand or not, Hermione's left hand swung up and got Theo in the face. His visage contorted viciously in anger and he pounced on her, pinning her hands on either side of her body. "Wrong choice, mudblood."

Theo's hands shot out for her throat and he began to choke her. She tried to reach out and scratch at his face again, grab at his throat, _something_ , but his arms were long enough to keep his upper body out of her reach. She couldn't even knee him due to his body position and her could feel herself losing consciousness and soon she changed tactics. Her left hand began to dart wildly under the mattress. It had to be there. So long as Draco hadn't found it and put it back in its proper spot it just _had_ to be there. Had she any breath left in her she would've let out a sigh of relief once her hand touched the hilt of the knife she'd been seeking. With it firmly in her grasp she whipped it out and dug it deeply into Theo's arm.

Theo yelled as she plunged it in and pulled it out and he took his hands off of her neck. Hermione had a clear view of his stomach now and that's where she thrusted the knife next. His shocked eyes met her determined ones as she gave the blade a twist. It stayed there, lodged deeply, and she didn't pull the knife out of him until she heard the sound of apparation fill the room.

Draco stared wide-eyed as Theo fell back onto his bed, Hermione's disheveled form holding a bloody knife. His knife.

"Draco," Hermione breathed.

Draco didn't say anything. He merely walked over to the bed and looked down at Theo, very much alive, but not for much longer. He removed his attention from his friend and back to Hermione. Her bandages around her stomach captured his concern first and he saw that they had completely soaked through. The next thing he noticed was how the hand holding his knife trembled. Draco slipped it from her hand and wiped it clean on Theo's robes.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked softly. Hermione sunk back into the bed, closed her eyes and took a deep, painful breath.

"I never did get that Pain Potion."

Draco looked back at Theo. He was dead now and the blond's lips fixed itself into a thin clasp. "I imagine not."

"I'm sorry." Hermione said suddenly. "I know that he was your friend."

"Never apologize for killing a Deatheater. Luckily, we just came back from a battle. His death won't be questioned."

Hermione frowned. "Aren't you upset that he's dead?"

Draco didn't answer her. He only took out his wand to clean away the blood on her hands, mended her shirt, then levitated Theo's body off of the bed and onto the floor. He cleaned the bed next and no one would've known that a man had just bled out onto luxury sheets.

"Polly!"

"Yes, Master Malfoy," he addressed once he appeared.

"I'm giving you permission to follow any and every order Miss Granger gives you. Right now she needs more Pain Potion. Once she's done with that, give her enough Sleeping Draught to make her sleep for the rest of the night. Take care of her, Polly."

"Of course, Master Malfoy."

Draco watched as Polly left the room and he took a deep breath once the elf was gone. He turned around when he heard Hermione's fragile voice calling out to him.

"What is it, Granger?"

"It's… It's going to be harder to get me out of here the second time. Isn't it?"

Draco gulped. "Later, Granger. For right now, rest."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, if that wasn't a storm I don't know what is! I sure hope that it got your blood pumping. A lot of things happened here, so you can just imagine the chaos that follows :)

Thanks for reading!

-WP


	21. Allies

Draco's presence disrupted everyone. He apparated into the foyer of Malfoy Manor with Theo's dead body slung over his shoulder and laid him gently on the ground. When he looked up he found Voldemort's cold, angry eyes on him, and Draco immediately dropped to one knee with his head bowed.

"My apologies, my lord. I saw that Theo was missing and I went back for him. I didn't want to risk the chance that he was alive, hurt, and unable to apparate. Clearly he was hurt more than I thought he would be."

Voldemort huffed. "Well, seeing as he _is_ dead, then young Nott is worthless to me. Amycus, Lucius, throw the boy's body into the fire."

Draco flinched. He didn't dare move or dare a glance as his father and Fiona's uncle hefted Theo's body to the roaring fire not too far from him. He thought of Theo's own father. The man was often travelling, doing deeds for Voldemort that only a select few (not him) knew of. He wondered what Nott Senior would think when he found out that his son was dead _and_ his body burned to ash.

"Rise, Draco."

He did.

"However late you are at this moment, your timing is still most opportune." Voldemort said as he gestured to Rodolphus. For the first time Draco noticed him and the man was barely able to stand on his feet. "Your uncle claims that the failures accumulated today are your fault. He said that you led him down an incorrect path of inquiry. And while he was punished for not using his own common sense, a failure sometimes does have many hands. Don't you agree?"

Draco nodded. "I do. Although I hope you forgive my brashness in me saying this, but my uncle would say such things about me to save his own skin."

The corner of Voldemort's sort-of mouth curled downward into a bit of a cruel grimace. "Oh?"

"Yes, my lord. I do admit that I followed my own initiative in order to carry out the tasks that _my uncle_ gave to me. For example, I had Gavin the shoppe keeper followed because I didn't trust him. Fiona, who I had given the task to, I had been watching myself and her methods had been...somewhat sloppy. He could have easily been aware of her presence and fed us false information on purpose, or, as what has recently transpired, set up a trap. For that reason I _expressly_ told my uncle not to believe what the man had to say. And then he chose not to listen to me."

Rodolphus' eyes bulged and he looked like he wanted to kill his nephew right then and there. "You little-!"

"Is that true, Rodolphus?" Voldemort asked calmly, although his tone also held something a bit more sinister. His follower turned, fright evident on his face.

"Well, I… I…"

Voldemort raised his wand. "Legilimens!"

Draco, as well as everyone, in the room watched as their leader roamed through Rodolphus' mind. The blond tried his best not to smile triumphantly because he knew what Voldemort would find. And when he was done the Dark Lord was angrier than anyone had ever seen him and Rodolphus was Crucioed off and on for a full ten minutes with only seconds in between each casting of the curse.

"Four of my Deatheaters are dead!" He yelled as he tortured the man. "My puppet is gone! And we have _nothing_ to show for it!"

Voldemort finally stopped with the Cruciatus when Rodolphus' screams ended. He then turned his eyes on Draco who was still standing in the middle of the middle of the foyer. "If you had such doubts about your uncle's leadership, why were you silent?"

"For the simple reason that he's among your most trusted." Draco answered humbly. "For me to question his judgement would be as though I were questioning _your_ judgement. It wasn't my place."

It was quiet for a moment. It seemed as though everyone was waiting to see how this played out. Hell, even Draco was waiting with an increased anticipation. And then Voldemort opened his mouth, letting his eyes roam for a moment to the unconscious man on the ground before him.

"He _was_ among my most trusted." Voldemort kicked at him some before addressing Draco again. "Your post at Edinburgh Castle is restored. I also have a new task for you."

"Yes, my lord?"

"Young Zabini tells me that the mudblood, Hermione Granger, is still alive."

Draco stiffened. "It appears that she is."

"Find her." Voldemort ordered. "So I've been told, she will be too weak to travel. You will organize a search for her in London, but of course, don't neglect anywhere else she may have gone. She is, somewhat fortunately, a smart witch." Here he smiled. "She will replace my puppet."

Draco had never liked it when Voldemort smiled. Whenever he was satisfied about something, it usually meant that he had something up his sleeve. But what was it? What was it about Hermione being a smart witch that would make him happy at the thought of having her at Malfoy Manor?

He would have to think about that later. Voldemort had dismissed everyone with an angry flourish and finally Draco was free to leave. He noted with dismay that every person his age was heading back to Edinburgh Castle. At least with Pansy still incapacitated and others…gone, it was a smaller number than the norm.

"Draco,"

Draco paused briefly, but only to shake his head at his father who had stopped him. "Not now. I'll write. Maybe if I'm in a better mood I'll pass by."

With that he left only to find both Blaise and Goyle waiting for him. He met both men with brief nods before walking through the castle's halls.

"I can't believe Theo's dead." Goyle said. Neither could Draco, and he had been the one to walk in and see it happening.

"I'm getting drunk." Blaise announced, his face hard and solemn. "I already told the others. Coming, Draco?"

The blond shook his head. "All I want to do is sleep."

"Fair enough." He agreed, then he cocked his head some and smiled grimly. "See you at the head of the table."

Draco inclined his own head at the gratitude and split ways down separate corridors. The one that he went down would lead him towards his suite, but he had to see Fiona first. She was still Imperiused and he had to break her out of it. By the time he'd made it to her bedroom, however, he was more than surprised to find Fiona in bed and tucked in, although not of her own accord.

Adrian looked up at the bedroom's door and snarled when he saw who was coming through. "What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Pucey." Draco said as he closed the door. "In fact I will. What are you-?"

Adrian pulled his wand out and aimed it straight at Draco. " _Don't_ come any closer. Fiona was Imperiused, and everyone knows you're the one with the most experience using that curse."

Draco stared past the wand and to the witch sleeping peacefully on the bed before looking at Adrian again. "She _was_ Imperiused? As in she's not anymore?"

"What's the matter, Malfoy?" Adrian spat at him. "Disappointed?"

"Relieved is more like it."

"Relieved? Ha! Give me one good reason why I should believe that?"

Draco sighed, a sag filling his shoulders. "That's a conversation for another day, Pucey."

"Oh no," Adrian said as he stood, his wand still firmly grasped in his hand. "I think right now is the perfect time for this conversation."

"You'd better stand down." Draco glared at him. "You see, I've had quite the long day. One of my best friends is dead, and I'm tired. I'm not one-hundred percent right now, and an unstable Slytherin is _never_ a good thing. Come at me if you want, but do me a favor and bitch at me tomorrow."

Draco left the room before Adrian could say anything. Under normal circumstances he would've dragged the man out with him, but he had a niggling feeling that Fiona was in safe hands.

* * *

Hermione woke up with a groan. She could tell by the overall darkness in the room that the sun had yet to rise, but there was an artificial light that forced her to open her eyes. That and someone's hands on her stomach.

Suddenly calling to mind her deadly encounter with Theo, Hermione attempted to sit up in bed, hands ready to do any and all damage necessary to the person and their probing. Draco's hand shot out to her shoulder and he eased her back down. His hand rejoined the other in its steady work of re-bandaging her stomach.

"No one's hurting you, Granger." He said, although he lifted his eyes up briefly with an inquisitive look. "Is it hurting?"

"A bit," Hermione admitted. "I think the numbing side-effect of the Sleeping Draught Polly gave me is keeping the pain at bay."

Draco nodded, more so to himself than to her as he set himself back to the bandages. "I'll have him fetch more of the Pain Potion."

"…H-how bad was it?"

"Deep, but the Blood Replenishing Potion kept you from dying. As for the wound itself, magic can only do so much, so you'll need to rest and-"

"No, not me." She interrupted. "I meant the fight."

"Oh," Draco thought for a moment and eventually sighed. "Hard to say seeing as the battle was widespread. But from what I saw? I'd say my side was far worse than yours."

Hermione frowned. "Malfoy, about Theo-"

"I don't want to talk about Theo."

 _Well, that shut down quickly…_ She thought to herself. And so she kept quiet. She merely kept her gaze on Draco's hands as he finished off with her bandages. She caught sight of her old ones in a trash can next to the bed and she grimaced. They were bloody, but she assumed they could be worse.

"Do you have Healer training, Malfoy?"

"This isn't going to be a repeat of the night when I healed your hip while drunk, is it?"

Hermione stared at him suspiciously. "Are you drunk?"

"No."

"Then no. It's just…well, you have precision. I never really thought about it before until I remembered how you cared for my ankle."

Draco shrugged, having now finally finished redressing Hermione's wound and exhaled tiredly. "The war's been going on for a long time, Granger. You learn a few things along the way."

Hermione nodded. "Seems so. Can I have more of that Pain Potion now?"

"Sleeping Draught would be best." Draco contradicted as he reached for said potion. "You need your rest."

"I've slept enough."

"You've slept less than you think."

Hermione fixed her mouth in a scowl as she crossed her arms. "Malfoy, I said that I _don't_ want to sleep."

"And _I_ said that you have to." Draco scowled back as he picked up the potion bottle. "Now stop acting like a bloody five-year-old."

"No!"

Hermione twisted her head to one side, one arm flailing, and Draco nearly dropped the potion. Luckily with a bit of juggling (and without spilling a drop) he was able to save it and then looked back to the witch with the most bewildered expression.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Granger?!"

"I already told you! I. Don't want. To sleep." Hermione pressed herself back into the pillows behind her head and swallowed. "I woke up exhausted while you were gone and I refused to drink anymore when Polly offered it to me. I'll keep refusing you too, so I suggest you put it away."

Draco did, but only after studying the bags under her eyes and the fact that she had broken out in a sweat in seconds. He could relate. When Giselle had been killed he wasn't able to sleep either –potion or no.

"You're having nightmares, aren't you?"

Hermione, whose gaze had been at her arms, looked up at him. "No. They're…flashbacks of the fight. More specifically they're…they're of Ron."

Draco hesitated. "Oh?"

She nodded. "I saw him during the fight, and it scared me. I saw him with Angelina, and it frightened me because I've never seen him interact with anyone before." Water started to build in her eyes, but she hastily wiped at them. "I'm getting worse."

"You're no crazier than I am, Granger." Draco tried to soothe as he patted her gently on the arm. "You're not getting worse. I'll get you that Pain Potion."

Hermione gave him a quick half-smile because, of course, she didn't believe him. She knew what she saw. She knew how real it felt. And she knew her mind was deteriorating faster than she could've imagined. With a sigh she took a healthy sip of the Pain Potion that Draco offered her and let him put it back on the night table. She watched as the blond stretched and then headed over to the chaise where he had apparently slept.

She frowned. She watched him as he tried to get comfortable while still wearing bloody robes. Blood that was hers.

"Malfoy,"

"You know, I'm starting to feel like your personal house elf."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's just one more request."

Draco, who had already lain down, swung his feet off of the chaise and raised an inquisitive brow. "Yes?"

"Come lie in bed."

Draco nearly slid off the chaise.

"What?"

"Come lie in bed." Hermione repeated as she swiped a hand over to other side of the enormous mattress. "You're tired and the proper rest you need won't come from laying on a chaise. Trust me, I know."

Draco continued to sit where he was. Hermione didn't say anything else; she merely closed her eyes. Considering how adamant she had been about not going to sleep, he knew that she hadn't succumbed to it so easily.

"Or you can stay where you are." She said without looking at him, a casual shrug accompanying her words. "It's your room."

Draco felt a sneer wanting to spread across his features. Perhaps she hadn't meant it, but he couldn't help but hear a smug undertone in what she said. Yes, it was _his_ room. So what if she was badly injured? The fact remained that she had commandeered it. He suddenly felt the need to completely disregard what she had said and stay right where he was. Unfortunately, upon his return from Malfoy Manor he had had a disrupted sleep. He woke to check on Hermione continuously which, needless to say, left him with his share of bags under his eyes.

Before he could change his mind Draco rose from the chaise, cleaned up the blood from his clothes, and made his way over to his bed. He stood beside it for countless minutes before he forced himself to climb in. Now that he was in the same bed with her (with the space of at least two people between them) his comfort levels were at an all-time low. He felt utterly ridiculous because of it seeing as how she had been at the mercy of his… _probing_ exactly twelve days ago. But despite it all, he knew why it made him feel uncomfortable.

Draco Malfoy didn't do "close." While growing up his father had never been one to show affection in the conventional sense. No hugs. Shallow words of encouragement. Nods of the head in approval. Perhaps to his wife he had shown more –not that Draco had ever seen. His mother, although stiff in her ways at times, showed her love for her son in a way that he felt. Granted he couldn't see himself going up to his mother and wrapping his arms around her in the hugs he sometimes longed for, but he did allow her to hold his hand. That, he considered, to be a major accomplishment.

When it came to friends, Draco couldn't help but think about Theo. He had meant what he said to Adrian about Theo being his best friend. It only occurred to him once he had made it back to his bedroom that he had never once told Theo that to his face. Did he even know how highly he had ranked on his list of people that he liked? The list wasn't very big, but still, it mattered. Blaise was on there too. Pansy, although a constant pain in his side, was also there. And Goyle. Fiona had never been on it but she had certainly skyrocketed to the top as of late. And they would never know. None of them, because he would never be able to bring himself to say something.

Of course, Giselle had managed to accomplish more. _So_ much more. After years upon years of lust-filled nights with various witches –some he'd been friends with for years, others he'd met for just one night –his favorite prisoner had managed to break through his walls. Cell bars had limited what they could do with one another, but the fact that he had felt such strong emotions towards the witch and hadn't even engaged in any of his sexual fantasies with her had let him know that she was special. That love was real.

And then she was dead.

It had been eight months now since that horrible day and Draco had promised himself that he would never get close to anyone ever again. At the very least not until the war was over –a time where life would be much less fragile than it was now.

But the brunette who was sleeping soundly in the bed with him was threatening to make him break his promise. He stood by his comments to Giselle (imaginary or not) that he didn't like Hermione. But he did care about her. He cared about whether she lived or died. He cared about her as a person. And he cared about what she thought of him. It terrified him to the core that his care could lead to something more. That's how it had started with Giselle. He had taken pity on the young, muggleborn witch and his pity had spiraled out of control. As he had admitted to himself once before, both she and Hermione could easily pass for one another. Would it be fair then, if it ever came to that point, for him to indulge in whatever surge of feelings overcame him?

Draco snorted silently. It was a bit late to be asking himself that question, wasn't it?

And so he would build his barriers. He wouldn't get too close. It would break him if he did.

* * *

Despite the large bed Draco usually only slept on the right side –the side where his knives were. Well, _knife_. He had decided to keep the other knife that had been plunged into his best friend's stomach on the side where Hermione would be sleeping. It made him laugh to himself having found out that the witch had moved it when she had first been there.

 _Such a clever little thing._

It was all he could think really. But now that he was awake he was thinking of something completely different. He couldn't for the life of him figure out how he had made his way to the middle of the bed when he normally stayed in one spot. He also couldn't figure out why, in Merlin's name, he was holding Hermione's hand. Not her wrist. Not her elbow. _Her hand_.

Draco cursed his subconscious and slipped his hand free. After realizing that he had just over an hour before breakfast, he got out of bed to shower and to get ready for the day. By the time he came out he found the witch he'd left sleeping wide awake and telling Polly what she wanted for breakfast. The house elf smiled at her and complied, disapparating just as Draco neared his dresser.

"He likes you." He said as he fished out a shirt. Hermione didn't look at him. The last thing she needed was to come face to face with a half-naked man and that man being Draco.

"How can you tell? He's a house elf, and _unfortunately_ ," she added in a sour tone. "They're prone to cordial behaviors."

"They are, but he never smiles at _me_ that much."

"Understandable. I'm much more likable than you."

Draco snorted. He smiled too, but luckily he wasn't facing her direction so she couldn't see it. He only turned to her when he had finished dressed and gave her his best disgruntled look. "Funny, Granger. Really funny. You know what else is funny?" Here he finally let his smile shine through as he clapped his hands together. "Ground rules,"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ah yes, of course. What's the matter, Malfoy? Don't trust me?"

"You? Yes. Your insatiable curiosity? Not so much. So, the wards are still in place, albeit altered a little."

"Altered?"

Draco nodded. "I used to manually undo the charms when coming in or letting someone enter after midnight. Now the door just opens to my touch. Fiona's too. And yours," he added with a regrettable uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. "Just in case you somehow find yourself outside of this room and need to get back in here quickly."

Hermione was impressed, but she also had her questions. Yes, her curiosity was quite insatiable. "How did you manage to do that? You'd need a bit of the person who you were granting access to and-"

"Well, I already had enough of your blood." Draco said a bit morbidly. "As for Fiona, a simple prick of her finger while she slept and she was none-the-wiser."

Hermione huffed. "Did you get _any_ sleep last night?"

Draco shrugged. "Enough. Now, back to the rules. Just because you can get out of this room at will doesn't mean that you should. _So, don't_."

"Exactly where am I supposed to go?" She asked, gesturing to her stomach.

"You're not going to be in that bed forever, you know. Now, just as last time, touch _nothing_. Unlike the last time, however, you'll have a wand."

"A wand? But I lost mine in the fight."

"You did." He agreed, but then he motioned to the night table. "But so did Theo."

Hermione looked over at the nightstand and, indeed, Theo's wand was right where he had set it down before proceeding in his attempt to rape and then kill her.

"And finally…neither one of us calls the other crazy."

Hermione snapped her eyes to Draco's quickly. The contact was broken almost immediately as he stared down at his feet.

"We both know what the other has been through." Draco continued. "And it wouldn't be right to tease each other with our respective…burdens. Deal?"

She nodded quickly. "Deal."

"Good."

They both smiled at each other before Draco finally decided that his comfort levels were dropping again. He told her that he would be back later on that night, possibly earlier, and with that he left the bedroom with the intention of lazily making the trek down to breakfast. However, that apparently wasn't in the cards. Just outside of his bedroom stood Adrian, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

Draco groaned. "You're starting to be a real pain in the arse. You know that?"

Adrian shrugged. "You said to bitch at you tomorrow. It's tomorrow."

A blond brow rose of its own accord. Well, he _did_ say that, didn't he? Draco chuckled some and then conceded.

"Alright, Pucey, let's get this train wreck over with. Can we do this on the way to breakfast?"

"We probably shouldn't."

Instead of arguing Draco took him to the nearest tea room and they both entered it. Neither sat down, and Adrian immediately came out with it as soon as the door was closed.

"I don't trust you, Malfoy." He said firmly. "You're an evil little snake and you're much too close to Fiona these days for comfort. So, what is it with you?"

"Why do you care?" Draco questioned him. "You've been avoiding her like the plague for years and all of a sudden you care about what I might be doing to her?"

"You've never been so keen on her before, so it didn't matter then."

"And it sure as hell shouldn't matter now. So, I repeat, why do you care all of a sudden?"

"It's not all of a sudden!" Adrian shouted exasperatedly. "She used to be my friend! Still is whether she wants knows it or not! We were all friends." He added softly with a droop in his shoulders. "Me, Fiona, and her boyfriend, Andrew. With Fiona's parents being who they were, we knew the war was coming long before anyone else. The night Dumbledore died Andrew came up to me. He made me promise to take care of her if something ever happened to him. To...watch out for her. I've been doing so ever since he died. That meant becoming a Deatheater even though I could've very well avoided it."

Draco blinked. Now _that_ he wasn't expecting. "Merlin... How come you've never told her? She thinks you're a bloody lost cause!"

Adrian frowned bitterly. "I know. And she needs to continue to think that for as long as either of us lives."

Draco furrowed his brow. "But-?"

"No, Malfoy." Adrian said sternly. "I..." He swallowed, his hands visibly shaking. "I can't afford to get too close."

And then it hit him. The realization hit Draco harder than a stampede of hippogriffs. "Well, I'll be damned." He said as a slow smile spread across his face. "You're in love with your best mate's girl."

"Piss off, Malfoy." Adrian spat furiously at him. "You know nothing about me or what I've been through since after, during, or before the war."

"Likewise, Pucey." Draco said calmly, his smile still in place. "But even the biggest idiot of idiots can see that you feel something quite deeply for our lovely Miss Carrow."

Adrian was snarling by now but Draco didn't back down.

"Yes," Adrian admitted in a growl. "And that same fictional idiot can see that she likes you."

Draco laughed. "That's some idiot then. Pucey, Fiona would rather cut off her leg before doing anything promiscuous with me. It actually hit a sore spot when she told me so in...a few more words than that."

Adrian's face instantly relaxed. "Really?"

Draco nodded.

"But...you two always patrol together. And you're always huddled by yourselves, talking in low tones. And...bleeding hell, she goes to your room!"

Draco was impressed with his observations while horribly appalled at himself for not noticing him notice _them_. "How far would you go to protect her?" He asked, completely derailing the conversation. It caught Adrian off-guard some, but he regained himself.

"I'd die for her."

"Hmm, well considering the times we live in you probably will. Another question, how good are you at Occlumency?"

"Why don't you find out?"

Draco accepted the challenge and raised his wand. "Legilimens,"

The spell hit Adrian straight in the forehead, and although Draco had a clear view of what was going on in the man's head for about a second, that was as far as he could go. He was pushed out at record speed and he couldn't hide his approval.

"Very well then. You should know that your little girlfriend is a traitor. Fiona's been aiding the resistance for quite some time. How close of an eye you've been keeping on her is questionable considering you didn't know that.

'As for the reason she's been coming to my room," Draco added, ignoring the glare that Adrian shot at him. "It's because I'm aiding the resistance just like she is. I've also been giving her Occlumency lessons at night."

Adrian's mouth slid open. "Seriously?"

He nodded. "I may twist the truth, but I'm not an outright liar. Fiona watches my arse and I watch hers." Draco smirked. "Platonically speaking, of course."

"Well… Well, hell," Adrian said as he ran his hands through his hair. "Do you know why she was Imperiused last night?"

"My guess is that it has something to do with one of our dead friends. Theo, to be precise."

" _Theo?_ Merlin, Malfoy. How deep does this crap go?"

Draco thought of Hermione and then he thought of Ron. "Deeper than you can imagine." He sighed. "Don't go to Fiona and tell her what you know. She's likely to kill you."

Adrian looked at him with a disbelieving look. " _Fiona?_ Come on, have you seen her?"

"She's managed to be a spy for years. I think she's capable of keeping her skills under wraps and using them when she needs to." Draco warned him. "Let me talk to her first. After that, and only if she agrees, you get to take over for me."

"Take over? Take over what?"

"Fiona's Occlumency lessons. If you've noticed our habits then the others have too. We need as little suspicion on us as possible. Can you do that?"

"For Fiona? Of course I can." Adrian smirked then and added, "And maybe for you too."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, for all of you wondering about Adrian, there you go! Voldemort's ranks are a little more corrupt than originally thought, it seems. Also, it's quite bit sad about Draco and his feelings about getting close. Will things change? Who knows… (except me lol).

Thanks for reading!

-WP


	22. Keeping Quiet

The one good thing about Voldemort's request to find Hermione was that Draco had to organize a search party. On Monday he sent Blaise, Daphne, Astoria, and Goyle out to London to scour the town and surrounding areas for the wanted witch. That left Draco, Fiona, and Adrian in Edinburgh. So he had heard, Bellatrix had been set in charge of her own search party, but so long as they were far from Edinburgh, he knew that Hermione would stay out of their reach. It was perfect.

That night, at Draco's request, Adrian skipped out on meeting him and Fiona at the pub. They snuck their way down to Andy's hidey-hole where Georgie had immediately demanded to know what happened the night before. They left nothing out, and the faux drunkard had been ecstatic to know that Ron was finally out of Voldemort's clutches, but completely saddened at the fact that Hermione had gotten hurt. He had asked them then how they had planned to get her out of Edinburgh Castle and back to the resistance.

"With Gavin not here, it'll be much harder." Georgie had said. Yes, the "missing" shoppe keeper was no longer in Edinburgh after Draco had insisted that he flee. Exactly where he had gone, Draco hadn't the foggiest clue, but he knew that he would be hearing from him soon seeing as he had taken his piece of the mirror with him. To answer Georgie's question about Hermione, Fiona offered Ace as a suggestion.

"Risky still," she had said. "Ace runs around from country to country so much that organizing a hasty getaway _actually_ requires planning."

The mere thought of it gave Draco a headache, and he decided not to think about it for the time being. At least not until Hermione was better. Tuesday came and went with him and his two allies faking the rounds with intimidation techniques, questions about Hermione that they knew no one would be able to answer, and then finishing the night off with their favorite alcoholic pit stop. Now it was early Thursday morning –very, _very_ early morning to be precise.

Hermione was sitting up in bed with a book on her lap and a cup of tea in her hands. Draco glanced at her from time to time, noting how she smiled as she took a sip and yawned, but mostly he kept his nose in his journal as he jotted down a note or two. They both stayed as such, in their own little worlds, until the bedroom door opened and in walked Fiona carrying her share of Sirius' mirror.

"No Pucey?" Draco asked as he snapped his journal shut. Fiona shook her head once she closed the door.

"I told him to sit this one out until after I explained him to the others. And when are you going to start calling Adrian, oh, I don't know, _Adrian?_ "

"Probably when he starts calling me Hermione instead of Granger." Hermione said without looking up from her book. She took another healthy sip from her tea and then smiled. "Which means never."

"Ugh," Fiona rolled her eyes. "A little intimacy wouldn't kill you, Draco."

Draco flinched at that. He got up to place his journal back where he kept it and walked over to his bed where he saw Fiona at Hermione's side, worry etching her features.

"Draco, something's wrong." Fiona said as she placed a hand over Hermione's forehead, cheeks, and neck. "She was fine and then all of a sudden she just…just closed her eyes!"

"Of course," he said as he took the book the brunette had been reading off of her lap. "That's what happens when someone falls asleep."

"She didn't just _fall asleep_. She passed out! She was completely alert and then she just…" Fiona's words trailed off as she stared at Draco. There was a knowing smirk in place –especially when he pushed aside a cup of tea to make room for the book. "What the hell, Malfoy? You slipped her a Sleeping Draught Potion?"

"Not much," Draco admitted. "But enough that she'll be out for at least one to three hours."

"Why?"

"Because the odds of us discussing a certain Weasley are extremely high. It's best that she doesn't hear it."

Fiona gaped at him as she rose to her feet and pointed a finger to the sleeping Hermione. "You didn't tell her?! For Merlin's sake, it's been days!"

"And she's been recovering for days." Draco argued. "She's going to be absolutely livid when she finds out what I did to him. Figured she only needed to deal with one stressor at a time. I didn't even tell her about the Dark Lord yet."

"But…but…" She struggled to say, but eventually sighed and nodded. "Okay, fine. But she's not stupid. Once she wakes up she's going to kill you."

"Which is precisely why I'll be sleeping on the chaise tonight in case she rolls over and decides to smother me in my sleep."

Fiona blinked rapidly at his words. Her eyes flitted between him, Hermione, the bed, and then the chaise repeatedly before settling on the blond before her who was giving her a quizzical look. "Sleeping on the chaise _tonight_ , specifically? You mean you don't sleep there every night?"

Draco's face dropped at realizing his mistake. There was a curious, devious little grin appearing on Fiona's face the longer he looked flustered. Luckily time was on his side and he gestured to the clock that hung in the room.

"It's one a.m. Time to call the others."

Fiona huffed at him, giving him a look in the process that screamed "I'm not dropping this." The two of them sat on the floor, their backs resting against the bed and soon the mirror was properly divided with the faces that Draco had grown accustomed to seeing.

"Ginny!" Fiona said happily. "I'm so glad that you made it back okay. Did the others-?"

"Let me talk to Malfoy." Ginny ordered.

Draco had known that this conversation was coming and so he braced himself as the mirror was shifted into his hands and he stared at the redhead's face. Georgie's and Gavin's took up the lower parts of it and they were terrible at hiding how eager they were to hear this.

"You've had my brother for two years."

"Yes."

"He's a Deatheater."

"Yes."

"You Imperiused him."

"Did you manage to break it?" Draco asked. "I told Johnson exactly how to go about it since my methods-"

"They were hard as hell to break even with your instructions, but it's done. Malfoy," Ginny took a deep breath, her overall posture looking strong and brave, but Draco knew better. The woman was a wreck. From a quick observation of her eyes he could tell that she hadn't been sleeping properly. She'd also been crying.

"Malfoy," she said again, clearing her throat. "My brother's confused. He… He's quiet, for the most part. He just sits and stares and only does things if someone prods him. He also confuses his past and present sometimes. And, most disturbingly, is that when we talk about Deatheaters he becomes…angry, almost. It's like as though he hates the fact that we want to hurt them."

Draco frowned terribly. He knew the extent of Ron's side-effects from the Imperius Curse, but he honestly didn't realize that it was _that_ bad. His conscience had already been torn up about him, but now it was worse.

"We're…we're relieved that he's alive." Ginny continued. "But we're also horrified that he's going through this. It's not fair to him."

Ginny, the pillar of strength that she always seemed to be, broke down in tears. The mirror began to shift some and soon Arthur Weasley was taking up the space where his daughter was.

"We have some questions for you about Ron." He said. Draco nodded, encouraging them, but also fearing having to give his answers.

"It makes absolutely no sense that You-Know-Who kept him alive." Arthur began. "He's never had a problem with killing us. Capturing us. But to go this far? Explain that to me, Malfoy."

Draco could see Fiona fidgeting next to her. She, too, knew the massive shouting match that would result from this and she was no more ready for it than he was.

"Your son was destined to die." Draco said slowly. "It had been the Dark Lord's every intention to kill him, but he didn't. He didn't because…I convinced him not to. I told him to make your son a Deatheater and to Imperius him."

There were several gasps on Arthur's side of the mirror while he himself let his mouth fall open. He sputtered for a few moments, letting the information sink in, before a clear vision of anger appeared.

"How…how could you do that? How could you just take away his will like that?! My son is…! Is…!"

"A walking vegetable, yes, I know." Draco finished crudely, a small scowl accompanying his words. Fiona smacked his arm for such a crass remark, but he didn't care. "I've spent more than my fair share time with him so, yes, I know _exactly_ what he's like. _I'm_ the one who had to Imperius him. _I'm_ the one who had to control him for these past two years –making him do…terrible things. And I'm also the one who made sure to take him out of the curse whenever the Dark Lord and his inner circle weren't around.

'I…I gave him things to help him. Personal effects that I had searched him for and kept hidden from everyone else. It helped some. Especially one particular photo he kept of himself, Potter, and Granger.

'What you have to understand is that I had a _split second_ to do something to save his life. It may not have been a decision you like, but he's _alive_. You should consider it a blessing, especially because unlike others, your son had it easy. Pius Thicknese has been Imperiused since the start of what should've been my Seventh Year _and_ without any moments of reprieve. Perspective is needed here."

Arthur desperately wanted to argue with him; Draco could see it, but the man wouldn't budge. He looked back to the others in the room and eventually gave a solemn sigh with a nod attached. The mirror began to move again and Charlie had filled the void.

"How's Hermione?"

"Fine. She's asleep right now."

Charlie let out a sigh of relief. "Okay. Good. I'm glad. Listen, tell her that I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"I'm sure she doesn't blame you. Besides, that spell was meant for me, remember?" Draco chuckled some. "You lot sure do love using _Diffindo_ , don't you?"

Charlie shrugged, his discomfort evident. "It's effective. A little _too_ effective, apparently."

Fiona slipped the mirror from Draco's hands and began shaking her head. "Don't you dare go blaming yourself, Charlie. You didn't know about Draco's allegiance with us nor did you know that Hermione was going to run out in front of the spell. It's _not_ your fault."

"But now she's-"

"Alive, asleep, and getting better. Draco's been taking really good care of her. Right, Draco?"

He nodded, wondering if sliding potions under Hermione's nose could be classified as "taking really good care of her."

"See?" Fiona grinned. "Now, enough about us. How are all of you? You too, Gavin, since you're not here anymore."

Charlie furrowed his brow. "You're not in Edinburgh?"

"Afraid not," Gavin said. "I'm in Gorgie, so not too far. Malfoy told me to hightail it out of there in case his uncle tried to kill me."

"Wait, a minute!" A different voice said. The mirror moved and Dean appeared. "You mean to tell me that _you're_ the one to float the rumor that we were in London? That was bloody suicide!"

"A sixty-forty shot, according to Malfoy." Gavin scowled. Draco peered into the mirror to flash him a winning smile which only earned him a rude gesture from the runaway shoppe keeper.

"Does that mean you're with Dorea?" Fiona asked. Gavin nodded.

"I'm in her basement. So, if anyone needs to come through Gorgie, I'm more than happy to help arrange it."

"Fair enough," Dean nodded. "As for us, everybody made it back that same night except for Angelina. She had given Ron her portkey and told him to disapparate somewhere safe and wait for it to activate. She used her button instead and went to Millerhill. She only got back last night."

"Is she alright?" Fiona asked.

Dean frowned and scratched his head some before the mirror moved again. Padma appeared and she was frowning just the same. "She came back a bit of a mess. Before she could make it to Ashton's she butted against a couple of Snatchers. Ashton did manage to get her away from them, although not without her getting a broken arm."

"But, it's like Malfoy said," came Ginny's voice as she filled the mirror again. "It's about perspective. She made it back and she's alive. Malfoy, how many are dead on your end?"

"Well, thanks to that building collapse," he smiled, "Dolohov and Yaxley. Marcus Flint was also taken out and so was…Theo."

"Theo?" Ginny turned to Fiona with a brow raised. "Did you..?"

"I wish." Fiona grumbled. "I'd already taken care of Lucius and his memories, but just as I was about to do Theo's he jumped up and put the Imperius Curse on me."

"And then he went after Granger." Draco continued. Everyone on Ginny's end began to talk incoherently. Georgie had already heard of the story, but it still made him fidget just hearing it again. Gavin hadn't, and he looked mortified.

"Did he hurt her more?" Dennis asked. "You did manage to get to him before he could-?"

"She killed him." Draco answered with finality. "I walked into the room just as she pulled my knife out of him."

Silence fell. It was still a sore spot with him that one of his best friends was dead. Talking about it certainly didn't make him feel any better.

"So…that means Zabini….his memories?"

"I didn't get the chance to, Dennis." Fiona said sadly. "I'm sorry."

"The Dark Lord knows that Granger's alive." Draco said. "What's worse is that he doesn't want to kill her. He wants her alive, but for what, I haven't the faintest clue."

"You need to get her out of there, Malfoy." Bill said seriously. "If You-Know-Who wants her…"

"As soon as she's strong enough to travel we'll get her out." Fiona said with a firm nod. "Hopefully Ace can help us out."

"We'll make sure to talk to him early then."

"Good. You should also know that there's another Deatheater on our side."

" _Another one?_ " Seamus exclaimed. "Merlin, does You-Know-Who have _any_ loyal members over there?"

"Too many," Draco replied grimly. "But it's Adrian Pucey." He turned to Fiona and grinned mischievously. "He's got a little _thing_ for Miss Fiona here, so wherever she goes, he will."

Fiona blushed. "He does _not_ have a thing for me! Stop saying that!"

Draco shrugged. "Whatever you say, Mrs. Pucey."

Draco dodged a flailing hand from the witch while everyone laughed. Ginny had taken ownership of the mirror again and, finally, was sporting a smile.

"Fiona, if you trust Pucey, then we can trust him too. Also, since you have Ron's coin you can re-register it for yourself. This war is getting deeper by the minute and we need to have a more direct way to contact you."

"Will do."

"Great. I guess that rounds off everything for tonight. Oh, and tell Hermione that we're glad she's alright."

Fiona nodded once again and then the mirror was silent. She exhaled deeply and then looked over to Draco. "Well, that went a bit better than expected. Now," she jetted a thumb over to chaise and grinned. "What was it you were saying about your sleeping arrangements?"

Draco groaned.

* * *

Draco had been having the best sleep he'd had in the past week. No tossing and turning. No nightmares. Just a peaceful, relaxing, and enjoyable rest. It had been interrupted by an extremely irate witch who was peering down at him with hell's fury in her eyes.

"A Sleeping Draught Potion, Malfoy?!" Hermione screeched at him. " _A Sleeping Draught Potion?!_ _ **Really?!**_ "

Draco looked past the witch to see the time. It was just after four in the morning and he cursed. "Bleeding hell, woman." He used his arm to cover his face and tried to go back to sleep. "For the love of Merlin, please go back to bed and be mad at me in a few more hours."

"I most certainly will not! We were supposed to talk to the Order tonight! I wanted to make sure everyone was okay, you arse! And what did you do? You drugged me!"

Draco lifted his arm some. "I think 'drugged' is a little much."

"What you did would be just cause to get you arrested in the muggle world."

"Good thing we're not in the muggle world then." He said as he sat up. Hermione turned red.

"Malfoy, you inconsiderate little! –Wait, what are you doing? Stop that! I said stop that! Put me down!"

"Sure," Draco said as he carried Hermione in his arms across the room. "I'll put you down."

Hermione struggled in his arms. Had she not been healing so well he would've been concerned. As it stood, with rest, a lot of potions, bandages, and some spell work, she was pretty much fully healed. He only encouraged as little strenuous activity as possible at least until a full week had gone by.

Draco set Hermione down on her side of the bed and laughed when he saw that she was pouting. He shook his head at her as he walked around the bed to lay on his side. She'd already started yelling at him, so he figured it was safe to retreat to his favorite sleeping spot.

"You know, you're actually quite adorable with your mouth fixed like that."

"Oh, shut up." Hermione grumbled with her arms set over her chest. Draco laughed again and she reached over to hit him on the arm, but he caught her wrist. She looked at him. She _really_ looked at him and found a mirth there that she hadn't seen once since first spotting him in Andy's pub. He lay there on his left side, her wrist in his hand, him staring at her as though this was the happiest moment he'd had in a long time. She was sure it was and decided not to be a joy killer for once in her life.

Hermione sighed. "Why did you give me a Sleeping Draught Potion, Malfoy?"

 _So much for not being a joy killer._

The contented calm that Draco had melted away instantly. He let her wrist go and let his hand fall to the middle of the bed. "We were going to be talking about something I didn't want you hear yet."

Hermione frowned. "What did you talk about?"

"Something that'll make you hate me."

"After everything you've done for me and the Order I could never hate you."

Draco gave a grim chuckle. "Are you sure about that?"

Actually she wasn't. Hermione bit the inside of jaw for lack of nothing to say. The clock in the bedroom ticked loudly in the interim and it was absolutely unbearable. Eventually she just shrugged and turned some to lay on her back.

"You were right before." She told him. "Maybe I should just be mad at you later. I'll just…let things be a calm for now. Besides, depending on what you have to tell me you just may be sleeping on the chaise again. Why were you sleeping on the chaise anyway?"

"I 'drugged' you, remember?" Draco answered as he also turned to lay on his back. "You were bound to be homicidal so I put some distance between us. And I was right."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I was _not_ homicidal."

Draco turned his head to her and scoffed. "Clearly you've forgotten how loudly you were screaming at me just moments ago."

"I was not _screaming_."

"You were a bloody banshee."

"A banshee! I wasn't a banshee! That's a terrible thing to call someone! You-!"

Hermione was cut off in her ranting for the second time that night, but obviously Draco hadn't picked her up and carried her anywhere. Instead, he had crawled over to her side of the bed, grabbed her face with his hands and kissed her. She had been surprised, to say the least, but she didn't fight him. How could she when his tongue was mixed with hers? How could she when one of his hands left her face and was under her shirt, sliding across her stomach and soon her bare chest. Her clarity was completely gone –even more so when Draco's lips and teeth found her sweet spot at the side of her neck.

She gained it back some went she felt her pajama bottoms being slowly removed. When did he even move his other hand away from her cheek? "I thought…" She said throatily. "I thought…no strenuous activity?"

"There's plenty I can do that's not _too_ strenuous." Draco whispered onto her skin. He lifted his eyes to her –a hungry look from what she could see as he kissed his way down. "I'm sure you remember."

Yes, Hermione did remember. And as her bottoms and underwear were cast away and Draco reached his desired destination, she closed her eyes and the bed's sheets became tightly clenched in her hands.

There was no need to remember what had happened before.

She was reliving every moment of it again.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, that's a lovely way to shut someone up, if I don't say so myself :). Can I just take a moment and say how much I love Fiona? Aside from Hermione, she's probably the only person who can test Draco's patience/push his buttons haha.

Until the next chapter everyone!

-WP


	23. Revelations

Draco's only intention had been to shut Hermione up. Kissing her to do that had obviously not been a wise choice, but he damn sure wasn't going to stop unless she had asked him to. She hadn't. So, he didn't. Now he was cursing himself, repeating soundlessly under his breath about those so-called barriers he was supposed to be keeping up around her. Although, as he looked over at her, sleeping on her side, her pajama bottoms and underwear still discarded on the floor, and his mind thinking over everything he wanted to do the moment Sunday hit, those damn barriers were low and easy to climb over.

He was screwed.

He was even more screwed now since he had gotten up an hour ago, waiting for Hermione to wake up and notice the gold coin that he had placed on the night table for her to see. By the time she did, Draco was sitting on the chaise and watching from a distance. She had stretched, rubbed at her eyes, and stared at the ceiling some. She must've realized that she was still half-naked and so she used Theo's wand to summon her underwear ( _only_ her underwear, curiously enough) and slipped them on while under the sheets. She went to put back the wand on the night stand when it slipped from between her fingers.

Draco's heart slowed when he realized that she had seen it. Hermione had swung her feet off of the bed, the gold coin in her fingers, raised to her eyes so that she could examine every inch of it. Her hands were shaking by the time she was done and soon she was looking wildly around the room until she found him. Her expression was unreadable.

"W-where did you get this?" Hermione asked. Draco swallowed.

"From Weasley," he answered. "I took it off of him that day of the fight. I hadn't wanted anyone to find it, whatever it was, or anything else he'd had on him."

Hermione nodded, her gaze back on the coin. "Good. That's…that's good."

"Granger, I have something to tell you. Some of it you're going to happy about. Other bits…"

"I'm going to hate you for?" She finished. She was looking at him again and he inclined his head. "What is it?"

Draco took a deep breath. "That night in London when you saw Johnson with Weasley… He wasn't your imagination. He was real. I know because I told Johnson that he would be there and to make sure he got away safely. He's with the resistance now –your friends."

The coin fell from Hermione's hands and she stared at him in alarm. "That's not funny."

"It's not a joke. He's alive."

" _No._ My best friend is dead." She said more firmly, her hands turning into fists and clenched tightly. "He's been dead for two years."

"He's been at the Dark Lord's stronghold, Malfoy Manor, for two years." Draco said in a strong voice. He didn't want to take that kind of tone with her, but he needed to make her understand. "He's been there since the day you supposedly died, and the _only_ reason the Dark Lord didn't kill him is because…I persuaded him not to." He paused some and saw Hermione stiffen. "The consequences of that persuasion was that Weasley was branded a Deatheater and Imperiused. I'm the one who Imperiused him."

The world slowed to a halt the moment Hermione heard Draco say that he had been the one to come up with the idea of making her closest friend a Deatheater. The world sped back up when he admitted to being the one to Imperius him, and that's when Hermione's anger exploded.

"You bastard! How could you?!"

Draco had expected this sort of reaction and so he held up his arms protectively over his face as Hermione crossed the bedroom at record speed, leapt onto his body, and took hard and wild swings at him. Her fists were hitting the back of his arms and he knew that were it his face he'd be a bloody mess right about now.

"How could you?! _How_ _could you?!_ " Hermione was shouting. "Ron's been Imperiused for two full years because of you! Forced to take the Dark Mark! To do horrendous things! All because of _you!_ And what's worse is that you didn't even tell me he was alive! _Alive, damn it!_ You've seen me! You've seen what I've been going through! I told you about him and neither Angelina nor you said anything! _I trusted you!_ "

Hermione kept taking swings at him, becoming more and more infuriated at the fact that none of them were hitting the main target of his git face. The face that belonged to a man whom she trusted. The face that belonged to a man who had helped her at every turn. The face that belonged to a man who had gotten her to her friends and who had promised to do it again. But this same man had taken away one of them in the cruelest of ways and she wanted to hurt him. She wanted to _kill him_. But that made her no better than her enemies and so her tired arms stopped. Her body slumped back as she slid off of the chaise and to the floor, utterly defeated.

"Imperiused for two years." Hermione repeated herself with tears streaming down her face. "That's no way for someone to live. And to be a Deatheater too? Merlin… You should have let You-know-Who kill him."

Draco frowned and sat up. He took a quick look at his arms and saw that they were badly bruised. Even when he moved them they hurt. He down at Hermione and noticed that her knuckles were red and raw.

"But then you wouldn't have the chance of seeing your best friend again." Draco said as he sat down next to her.

Hermione sniffled. "Is he still my friend? The long-term effects of the Imperius Curse aren't good, Malfoy. He can't be right in his head. The length of time coupled by what he's been forced to see and do…it's impossible."

"I released him from the curse when I could." Draco told her in an attempt to soothe her. "I've seen other people under it much longer than him and trust me, Weasley's mental health is… Well, it could be worse."

Hermione felt more tears falling and soaking her cheeks as she tried to block the images of her best friend as a drooling mess.

"Honestly, I didn't think I'd have him under for so long." He continued. "I'd been waiting to arrange a fight between the Deatheaters and the resistance from the moment we had him to get him back to your friends. It just took longer to find the resistance than I had anticipated."

"Two years too long," she said, her voice dropping to a deadly register as she looked at him. "You should have let him go."

"And then he would've been dead." Draco said flatly. "The chances of escaping a Deatheater stronghold was, _and is_ , practically zero. When it's the Dark Lord's, it _is_ zero."

"It was _your_ Manor. You could've gotten him out. You could've gotten him out and you know it!"

"And then what?!" Draco challenged. "If I had managed to get him out then what, Granger? I'll tell you what, because for starters I would've been dead right along with my parents. The only people who know Malfoy Manor inside and out aside from Voldemort are _us_ , and although I'm a fan of throwing suspicion off of me and onto any sap, my family were not and are not included on that list.

'Secondly, where exactly do you think Weasley would have gone? He would've been without a wand and, most importantly, he would've been without a wand and _alone_. Sure, I suppose I could fetched his wand from the Dark Lord's hiding spot, but I repeat, _I'd be dead._ So, good luck trying to find the other resistance members when you're screwed twice over. It was better this way."

"Better?" Hermione scoffed. She wanted to fight it. She wanted to say that the life he had singlehandedly subjected Ron to was certainly not better, but under her rage she was happy that he was alive. Best of all, he was with the Order. He was finally safe.

Hermione's tears suddenly intensified and she cried terribly. Her body shook as she curled her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them. Draco scooted himself closer. With a bit of hesitancy he let his arm wrap around her shoulders and he pulled her to him. Contrary to what he thought she'd do, he wasn't pushed away. She merely transferred her sobbing fit onto his chest.

With a sigh Draco leaned his cheek on the top of her head. "I told you you'd hate me."

* * *

Hermione had cried herself to sleep. Draco didn't go to breakfast that morning and instead sat with his back against the chaise with the sobbing witch in his arms. Halfway through breakfast his bedroom door had opened and both Fiona and Adrian looked in with worried looks on their faces. Everyone knew of the blond's need to have breakfast over any other meal, and for him not to show up they knew that something major must have happened. So when his allies/friends saw the scene they both frowned, knowing what must've went on, and quietly backed out of the room with promises to come back later.

Draco had fallen asleep as well, and Hermione woke up several hours later with his body curled around her. She had been confused at first, but then she spotted the coin she had dropped and everything came flooding back. Her body tensed immediately, but then relaxed of its own accord when Draco's arms held her more closely –if possible. She looked up at him, his sleeping form that she'd gotten so used to over the last couple days.

If Hermione had to be honest with herself, she was at a crossroads as to what to feel concerning Draco's involvement with Ron. What he'd done… Sure, it had saved her best friend's life, but at what cost? It was times like these where she wished that she wasn't as smart or widely read as she was. She knew much too much about spells, curses, and hexes, what they could do, and their side-effects. She didn't have to see Ron face-to-face to know what he must be like. It hurt her more than she could imagine. What hurt her almost as bad was that Draco had been the one to subject him to it. But could she blame him? This was war. How many options did he have to keep Ron from death? Although not the choice she would wish on anyone, he had been right. At least her best friend was alive.

And so, albeit reluctantly, Hermione disentangled herself from Draco and headed straight to the coin that still lay on the floor. With Theo's wand in her hand, which she'd might as well start calling her own, she headed back over to Draco and knelt down in front of him. Just as he always did, he looked peaceful as he slept. She set her wand down for a moment and took the rare opportunity to touch him. It wasn't something that she longed to do. Despite their two intimate moments, the most she could say that she felt for Draco Malfoy was care. She didn't want to see him hurt, much less dead. She also cared very much about what he thought of her. But did she like him? As a person, she supposed yes. But did she _like_ him? Hermione couldn't possibly afford to think in such terms with everything that was going on around them. And yet, here she was, caressing his cheek and smiling as she did so.

Merlin, she was such a fool.

With a sigh, Hermione picked up her wand and summoned the coin that was still on the floor. It was in her hand in less than two seconds, and two seconds after that, Draco's hand was in hers and she was neatly slicing one of his fingers so that it began to bleed. He had stirred some as she did this, but he didn't wake. Her wand was on the floor again and replaced with the coin. She let Draco's blood fall into its center and with one incantation later the coin gave off a shimmering red light. Her initials had once been at the top of the coin. Now that there was someone else's blood inside it held the letters "D.M." instead. She smiled at that and proceeded to clean up and heal Draco's hand before his blood began destroying the beautiful carpet.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione looked up at Draco's confused face. She couldn't help her blush, honestly. She was still holding onto his hand and it was incredibly awkward. Eventually she did let it go and passed him the coin.

"I registered this for you." Hermione answered. "The Order gave me a new one and I figured this would be good for you to have. They all have them. If we ever needed to send a specific message to someone, this is how we'd do it."

Draco was aware, but of course she didn't know that. He merely nodded, allowing her to portray the knowledge she thought only she knew, and then stared at her curiously.

"You need blood for such specificity."

Her blush came back. "Yes, well… I decided to take a little while you were knocked out. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind? No, of course not." Then Draco smirked and folded his arms over his chest. "Although, it's a little creepy to be taking blood from people as they sleep, don't you think?"

Hermione laughed. "Hypocrite,"

"I've been called worse." Draco smiled before taking note of the time. He sighed then and rubbed his hands tiredly over his eyes. "I have to get going soon. Patrol,"

Hermione frowned. "Of course." She eased back and stood up, allowing room for Draco to do the same. "I guess I'll be reading until you get back then." She paused as a thought passed through her head. "Malfoy, I have a small request and…it may sound a little strange."

Draco gave her a wary eye before egging her on. "Which is…?"

"Well, I was hoping that you could wrangle whatever children's books you could find."

"Children's books?" He repeated with a dumbfounded expression. She nodded.

"Yes. Anything with a fable in it."

Draco snorted. "What are you? Six?"

Hermione glared at him. "They'll serve a _purpose_ , Malfoy. One that I actually need to talk to you about since, well, concerns You-Know-Who."

Draco's laughter at her expense stopped immediately as his face grew grim. "Alright." He conceded. "I'll see what I can do and we'll talk tonight. Fiona and Pucey will be here too seeing as we've got something to talk to you about as well."

"I'm not going to hate you for this, am I?"

"No, but you're still not going to like it."

* * *

 _Fantasia's Fairy Friends. Lorel and the Lying Leech. Otis the Ogre. The Tales of Beedle and Bard._

Those were just a few books that Draco had managed to find for her and, quite frankly, he had found more than she had anticipated. Some, he had told her, he had even found in the library located near the end of the enormous corridor of his suite. Hermione had smacked him on the arm for that, arguing that it was _awful_ how he waited after all this time to tell her that he had a library here.

"I'll let you have fun with your dusty boyfriends at some point, Granger." Draco said as he picked up one of twelve books he had spread across the floor. "But first, can you finally tell me why I went to hell and back to find _Filomena's Fables_?"

"Yes, but first I have a question to ask you. All of you really. Are you aware of what You-Know-Who is doing when he leaves Malfoy Manor?"

"You mean other than checking in on his subjects?" Adrian asked. "I wasn't aware that he was doing anything else. You, Fiona?"

"No, nothing. Draco?"

Unlike them, Draco didn't deny it. In fact, he hadn't said anything. He just stared at nothing in particular with widening eyes.

"Malfoy?" Hermione called. When he snapped his eyes to her she sighed in comprehension. "You know, don't you?"

"Nothing except what my mother told me. That the Dark Lord was looking for something."

"That sounds about right." Hermione said as she glanced once at the books. "The Order is aware of that. In fact they think that he's looking for a new way to become immortal."

"A new way?" Adrian repeated. "What's wrong with using Horcruxes? They seemed to work out pretty good for him."

"And yet Harry, Ron, and I managed to destroy them all. No, he wants a better way, and for that he's tracking down the rest of the Deathly Hallows."

All three of her listeners' faces paled. Although the Deathly Hallows had once been considered nothing but a legend, no one who lived through the Battle of Hogwarts doubted their existence anymore.

"I don't understand." Draco shook his head, his skin looking positively ashen. "How will having all three of them help him?"

"I honestly don't know." Hermione sighed. "But that's why I asked you for the books." She picked up _The Tales of Beedle and Bard_ and turned it over in her hands. "The Tale of the Three Brothers was about the Deathly Hallows and its origin. I was thinking –well _hoping_ is more like it –that maybe there's a story that talks about someone having all three of the Hallows at once. Maybe even two. It would certainly make the whole 'master of death' thing a little less vague. It's what I was trying to work on before the battle on Sunday. In the meantime the Order's been keeping an eye out for anything that sounds remotely suspicious that could lead them to the Resurrection Stone. Despite their numbers, they want to send people to go looking for it again."

"Wait a minute," Fiona said with a cross of her arms. "Again? As in they've been looking for it before? And they never _told_ _me?_ "

Hermione was decent enough to look guilty. "Sorry, Fiona. They told me that you didn't know Occlumency. To be honest, the only reason I'm letting you know now is because Malfoy told me you were learning it."

Fiona groaned. "You people and your damn Occlumency. It's a good thing I'm just an ally and not a full-fledged Order member or I'd be screwed."

Draco looked at her. "Screwed how?"

"Order member prerequisites include having a certain degree of Occlumency proficiency." Hermione answered. Now Draco's gaze was set on the other witch in true surprise.

"You know Occlumency?"

Hermione knew why he was surprised. His perfect blond head of his was probably thinking back to that time they'd spiked each other's teas with Veritaersum. She knew better than to meet his eyes directly at a time like this so she didn't.

"Maybe the Dark Lord doesn't know either." Adrian said. He then added quietly to Draco and Fiona, "Maybe that's why he... _you know_...yeah?"

"Unless he thinks she knows where to find her friends and the rest of the Hallows." Fiona suggested. "In which case he's half right."

"Hello?" Hermione said, waving her hands in front of everywhere. "Did you happen to forget that I'm sitting right here?"

"Sorry," they all mumbled. Draco decided to take the reins on this one and took a deep breath before getting started.

"Haven't you wondered why there's just the three of us left in Edinburgh?"

"I have." Hermione admitted. "But quite frankly I was much too happy to care. Where...where are the others?"

"Organized in search parties. They're out looking for you. And we," he added as he pointed to himself, Fiona, and Adrian, "are one of those search parties. Obviously we're doing a piss poor job of it."

Dread instantly filled Hermione from head to foot. "How...how did they know? I was in disguise!"

"Angelina said your name," Fiona explained, "when you ran out in front of Charlie's spell. I erased Lucius' memories of it, but Theo was too good of a faker and Imperiused me. Luckily you killed him, but…"

"Not Blaise," Draco grumbled. "He told the Dark Lord that you're still alive."

Hermione blinked as though something was caught in her eye. "How is it that _you're_ still alive?"

" _Pardon?_ "

"Malfoy, it was _you_ who confirmed that I was dead. I know from hearing it through the woodworks over the following months after that battle. Now that You-Know-Who knows that I'm not, I figured that he'd be furious with you."

 _Huh… He really_ _ **was**_ _calm, wasn't he? Why? And why the hell didn't I think of this before?_

"Merlin forbid he's suspicious of you." Adrian gulped. "That would just be the icing on the cake, wouldn't it? That he thought you lied to protect Hermione that day."

"Or that Draco's still lying." Fiona piled on. "Think about it. The Dark Lord gave Draco back his post here _way_ too easily. Why? Because Rodolphus failed? Draco already 'failed' once before. Not to mention he was right there when Hermione escaped. I didn't get the chance to wipe Blaise's memories. Who knows if he interpreted what Hermione did correctly?"

"Does it matter?" Adrian asked. "Theo was there. He could've told Blaise everything. Probably did seeing as he would've had to explain why he was Imperiusing Fiona."

"And who knows what else Blaise told the Dark Lord aside from the fact that Hermione's alive."

Draco felt sick. He was usually good at predicting other people's movements, but this? This possibility had completely slipped him. If this was true then the reason why Voldemort had given him the task of finding Hermione wasn't a prize. It was a test of his loyalty. And also, in a sick sort of way, a punishment.

"Your lives are in danger." Hermione said with a quivering tone. "All of you. Wait, no. Not you," she said to Adrian. "You weren't there that night."

"She's right." Draco said as he turned to Adrian with a serious expression. "That's why you're going to London. _Alone._ " He added to Fiona. Her face fell instantly at his words.

"But you said when we traded off that you'd let Adrian and I go together?"

"That was before the very real possibility that the Dark Lord knew we were both traitors. Pucey's the safest one out of all of us and he needs to talk to Blaise to find out what he said."

"Malfoy, you said trade off." Hermione addressed him. "What did you mean by that?"

"I mean that Deatheater search teams are going to change. This upcoming Monday as a matter of fact."

"But...but that means other Deatheaters are going to be _here_. Do you know who?"

"Does it matter?" Draco challenged. "None of them like you very much."

"Draco," Adrian said with worry evident on his face. "We need to get Hermione out of here before Monday."

Draco nodded. "Fiona,-"

"I'll let Ginny know we need Ace's help. Don't worry."

"Good." Draco exhaled somewhat contentedly. He turned to Hermione who looked like she'd been dipped into a pool of ice. He frowned and didn't think twice before putting his hand over hers. "You're going to be fine."

Hermione forced herself to smile, but it hardly reached her eyes enough to believable.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Okay, so Hermione knows about Ron now. Also, Fiona's screwed. And Draco's probably screwed. Yeah, this may not turn out too well!

Thanks so much for keeping up with me guys!

-WP


	24. Mind Tricks & Apologies

That night Hermione couldn't sleep. She kept having nightmares about Voldemort killing Fiona and then turning his wand on Draco and torturing him. Adrian was there too, but he was off on the sidelines, torn between wanting to help and trying to keep Draco's promise of staying alive so that he could protect Hermione in his stead.

Normally her nightmares would be calmed by Draco. An arm would wrap around her and pull her in close, followed by his warm breath tickling her ear as he whispered comforting words to soothe her. She'd always fall back to sleep immediately after that.

But not tonight. Tonight she was miserable.

Draco had gotten up from bed nearly two hours ago. He had been talking to someone (Giselle, she presumed) and had locked himself in the bathroom. Hermione knew very well that he dreaded the moments when his insanity showed. He hated it most when Hermione was there. He hid it from her, choosing to mumble under his breath as though that would keep her from noticing. For his sake she played dumb and pretended that everything was alright.

"If you're having trouble sleeping, I could read you one of these books." Ron's voice said. Hermione rolled over in bed to its direction and found him by the night table. "Pick one."

Hermione scowled. "I don't want you reading to me."

"Fair enough. We could just talk then."

"I don't want to talk to you so just go away." Hermione said as she turned from him. She gasped aloud when she found him lying on the bed with her. Merlin himself wouldn't have believed how fast she scrambled out of that bed and onto her feet.

Ron stared at her quizzically with a frown. "Why would I go away?"

"Why?" She snorted and crossed her arms. "Because you're not real. _That's_ why."

Ron laughed. "Of course I'm real. You saw me that night. I was with Angelina, remember?"

Hermione's voice hitched. Water started to swell in her eyes as she watched him climb off of the bed and walk around it to stand in front of her. He was so much like the best friend she knew. With his vibrant hair, caring face, awkward appearance and stature… She shook her head and closed her eyes tightly, hoping and praying that he would be gone when she opened them. He wasn't. He just continued to stand there with a concerned expression.

"Hermione,-"

"Don't." She said firmly with a shaky finger pointed at him. "Don't you dare say my name."

Ron took a step forward. "But-"

"Don't come any closer either!"

Ron stopped. Hermione was breathing heavily now and felt more than just her hand shake as she spoke to him.

"You're not real. You're just my imagination screwing with me."

Ron shook his head, clearly amused at her. He then walked around her and picked up her wand on the nightstand. "Imaginary things can't lift objects, Hermione. You _know_ that I'm real. Malfoy already told you that I'm alive just yesterday morning."

"Aha!" Hermione shouted at him. "How do you know that? Huh? You weren't even here!"

"I'm always here." Ron told her. "And I'm _always_ going to be here. Whether you want me to be or not."

Hermione screamed in frustration and raised a wand that she had no idea she was holding nor when she had picked it up. "I already told you! You're. _Not._ _ **REAL!**_ "

Ron dodged out of the way as Hermione a shot a spell at him. It hit the night table and blew it up into several pieces. She turned, found him again, and repeated her actions. This time bathroom door exploded.

"Fight back, damn it!" She yelled at him. "If you're so _real_ then fight back!"

Another spell and there went the chaise. A lot of cushion stuffing flew into the air and obscured her vision. Before she could set her sights on Ron again she felt a hand grab her wrist and began fighting to get her wand out of it. Hermione was horrified. He wasn't supposed to be real. Unless he…? Was the real Ron really here? Had she really almost killed her best friend?

"Granger!" Draco shouted at her as he wrestled Theo's wand from her. He finally managed to wrench it free and threw it to the floor. "Granger! Snap out of it!"

Hermione was staring into the grey eyes and bloody face of Draco who was absolutely terrified at what he had just seen. She took a moment to look past him and she saw the damage to the bathroom door. Then she looked at his face –and his bare chest covered in damage from the debris.

"Oh Merlin! The bathroom...my spell...you… Oh, look what I've done to you!" Hermione exclaimed as she scooped her wand up from the floor and ushered him to the bed.

"Granger, I'm fine, I promise." He was telling her as she fussed over him to see what other bodily harm had been done. "You didn't hurt me."

Hermione's brows rose so far up they were gone. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Okay, fine, you hurt me a little, but-"

"I'm sorry." She apologized. Tears had long since welled up in her eyes and now they were flowing down her cheeks. "I didn't mean to. Ron was just… He was here and… He wouldn't go away."

"Granger, you have nothing to be sorry for." Draco said as he took her wand from between her trembling fingers.

"But-"

"No, buts."

"But I-"

"What did I say?"

Hermione kept quiet, but her tears continued. Draco used his own wand to rid himself of splintered wood from the bathroom door and to clear away the blood that smeared his skin. He had told her that he was fine, but if he was being honest, his body was sore as hell. He had been sleeping in the bathtub when the explosion occurred, and had he not been halfway shielded, he could've easily been killed.

Of course, he wasn't going to tell her _any_ of that.

"I thought," she hiccuped. "That it would," another hiccup. "Stop. Ron's not dead. Why didn't it stop?"

Draco hid his wince as he gently pulled Hermione onto his lap. Her head nestled into his neck and he remarked how warm she felt. She always felt warm. And inviting. And safe.

"You were seeing him for a long time." He told her as he rubbed small circles on her back. "Your mind just has to get used to the change."

"What if it never does?"

Draco sighed. His body ached. He urged her to lie on the bed with him and she did so with no protestation. Once they were comfortable he broke the silence.

"There was a period of three months where I didn't see Giselle. I saw her about a week after she was killed and I saw her often and everywhere. I'd thought she was a ghost at first, but eventually I realized that it was just me. I'd snapped. I'd seen terrible things, _done_ terrible things, for years, but this one woman's death was going to end me.

'I was emotionally tortured for four months –her telling me that it was okay that I couldn't save her and that she didn't blame me. I may not have looked it on the outside, but I was a wreck. She'd been clever, really. Or my mind, rather. She always appeared when I was alone." Draco gave an inappropriately-timed chuckle and shook his head. "I find it interesting, though, that she doesn't mind cropping up when I'm around _you_."

Hermione felt herself smile. "How did you get her to stop?"

"Because I realized why she came. She came when I felt like a failure. Like I couldn't save anyone. Or when I needed a reality check."

"With that last one I see why she came a lot."

Draco pinched her side at that and she laughed. He couldn't help but grin, especially when she slid her arm around his waist and hugged him.

"She stopped because I started doing those things myself."

"When did she come back?"

Draco looked down at her. Specifically those brown eyes of hers that he so often as of late got lost in. "That morning after the inn."

"Oh," Hermione said softly. She dropped her head down to his chest and frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He said, raising her head up with his hand. "Giselle came back because of _my_ insecurities. _My_ faults. You have to find out what your insecurities are. Find out why Weasley comes-"

"I already know why." She interrupted him. "He comes when I feel like I need help. Physically, emotionally… Just help."

Draco furrowed his brow. "What did you need help with tonight?"

"I couldn't sleep. I was utterly restless and you weren't here so-"

"I was here." Draco countered. "I didn't leave the bedroom."

"I know that. But you weren't _here_."

"Granger, I don't-"

" _Here_ ," Hermione said again, patting the bed for good measure. "You weren't _here_ with _me_."

Finally, Draco understood. He swallowed and nodded. "I'm sorry."

Hermione shook her head as she placed a hand on the side of his face. "If I'm not allowed to say sorry then neither are you."

"But-"

"No buts either, Malfoy."

Draco opened his mouth to protest again, but Hermione's own had taken over his. It was a quick kiss despite the vigor with which she had done it, and she pulled back with a blush.

"I figured it would keep you quiet."

Draco licked his lips once. "Didn't work. I'm still talking."

Hermione's laugh echoed off the walls. Soon it was muffled as Draco kissed her. Shortly after that she had stopped laughing altogether.

 _To hell with Sunday_ , Draco thought as he slipped Hermione's shirt over her head. He had secretly loved the fact that she didn't wear a bra, and he couldn't have been happier now that she didn't. Hermione herself was just as happy and she failed miserably to hold back a moan as his lips moved their way down her throat and to her chest, his tongue moving along with them.  
The practical side to Hermione (the side that was quickly conceding) kept repeating Draco's own words to her: "No strenuous activity!" But then again, this _was_ Healer Draco after all, his lower half grinding into hers with every kiss he gave and making her forget her own bloody name. Surely it was okay, and she fumbled messily with his trousers.

Her hands stopped completely as Draco's _literal_ _purr_ in her ear startled her senseless.

"So eager," he said delicately. Hermione's hands were still frozen stiff and Draco resisted the urge to laugh. Instead he helped her by removing his pajama bottoms. He rarely wore a shirt to bed, and thank Merlin that he hadn't tonight. He was completely naked now, but Hermione was still in her own pajama bottoms.

 _Well, that certainly won't do._

Draco smiled mischievously and Hermione saw the twinkle in his eye. This was perhaps the one and only time she loved his capacity for wickedness and felt, rather than saw, him take the rim of her pajama bottoms between his teeth and slide them off of her. Her underwear came next and it was discarded to the floor just as quickly.

A quick Contraceptive Charm later and Hermione was in disbelief. If anyone had told her that she would be having sex with Draco Malfoy, Deatheater, at the peak of wartime, she would've been a total hypocrite and called them crazy. _This_ in itself was crazy. _They_ were crazy. But if she were to accept any form of insanity then this would certainly be it.

Hermione dug her nails into Draco's back with every thrust of his hips and he winced whenever she did so. It only added to the pain of having almost been blown to bits by the witch writhing pleasurably beneath him. But if the consequences of a little pain yielded in her clenching him tightly, moaning his name, his _first name_ , repeatedly, then he'd gladly take the Cruciatus Curse for this woman.

Draco swore as her nails finally broke the skin and Hermione heard it. She gained a sick sort of satisfaction from it and gave her own devious smile as she impressively rolled them over so that he was on his back. He looked surprised, albeit pleased, and his eyes rolled back as she moved rhythmically above him. It was his turn now to grunt and groan her first name over and over, and Hermione couldn't help but smile at the fact that _this_ would be the time for them to lose all formality.

Hermione pleasantly gasped when Draco suddenly grabbed her around the waist, held her close, and rolled them back over. Movements became faster, moans became louder, and Draco kissed her deeply as he came undone. Hermione had already beaten him to the punch (more than once, she was happy to admit), but relished in the feeling of it being his turn and felt his body shudder above her.

Their bodies relaxed and their breathing slowed. Draco shifted his lower body some so that he was lying next to her, but his head was on her chest. Hermione's arms were wrapped around him, her right hand running smoothly through his hair. They stayed that way for only Merlin knew how long until Hermione finally broke the quiet.

"Malfoy," Hermione said softly. "If…if I leave here the Deatheater search parties will never find me."

"Granger, please." Draco begged. He had his eyes closed and he was enjoying the feel of her fingers on his head. "I just had arguably the best sex of my life. I do _not_ want to talk about Deatheaters right now."

Hermione's hand stopped. " _Arguably?_ "

Draco smirked. "Did that tempt you to prove me wrong?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and slapped his shoulder with her free hand. Draco laughed as her hair petting resumed. "Draco, just humor me for a second, will you?"

"Fine. No, the other Deatheaters won't find you when you leave. Is that a problem?"

"For me? No. But for you? Absolutely. You-Know-Who isn't a very forgiving man. He'll torture you if you can't find me. Fiona and Adrian too."

Draco frowned, but she couldn't see him from this position and so he let it linger. "We've all been tortured before. We'll make it through."

"You don't know that." Hermione argued. "Everyone has their limits. This could very well be the time that he kills you."

"The Dark Lord doesn't kill his favorites."

"Maybe so. But you and I both know that neither Fiona nor Adrian are in his list of favorites."

Draco stiffened. Hermione felt him and she looked down at him only to be met with the top of his head. She sighed. "There's no way that I can leave in good conscience knowing what you'll be put through."

"What other option is there?"

Hermione took a deep breath and prepared herself for his reaction. "Turning myself in to You-Know-Who."

Draco immediately sat up. "Are you out of your bloody mind?!"

Hermione frowned. "You know we're not supposed to call each other anything close to the _C-word_."

"I don't care!" Draco shouted. "Because this, this right here that you're talking about? This is madness!"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't do this." Hermione challenged as she also sat up. Draco's eyes bulged at her words.

"Just _one?_ Sure, I'll give you an _excellent_ reason. He'll kill you!"

"He might not. If all he wanted to do was kill me, then why make you and the other Deatheaters look for me?"

"How the bloody hell should I know? But what I _do_ know is that even if you did go to him, whether it was right that instant or six months down the line, you'd still be dead."

"But you wouldn't be." Hermione said with finality. "I… I've been dead for two years, Draco. If I'm dead again, it won't be hard for everyone to adjust."

"Adjust," Draco repeated with an added hint of disgust. "Knowing my luck I'd start seeing you instead of Giselle." He shook his head then with an angry scowl. "You are _not_ putting me through that, Granger. You're not going anywhere but back to your friends."

"But I-"

"Hermione," Draco said as he placed his hands on her shoulders. She was startled, to say the least. Despite hearing him say her first name only moments before, it sounded so foreign when not in the throes of passion. He stared into her eyes and said firmly, " _Nowhere_ but back to your friends. Now let's get some sleep."

Draco eased himself back down in bed, pulling Hermione along with him. She moved to open her mouth to say something else, but Draco beat her to the punch. "If you say anything more about this I swear to Merlin I'll hide your wand and then cast a Silencing Charm on you."

Hermione snapped her mouth shut. She'd obviously lost the battle for the night, but in the morning? Now that would be a different story.

* * *

Draco rolled over in bed and stretched. It was a good stretch too. One that spread through every muscle and elicited that satisfied groan. He grinned and scooched his body some so that he could lazily drape an arm around Hermione and tuck her in close. He knew that she had gone to sleep pissed at him, but it was for her own good. He would make it up to her somehow, and a wicked thought came to mind as to just how he would do that.

However, there had been no one in bed for him to hold onto.

Draco's eyes snapped open and, indeed, found Hermione's side of the bed empty. He looked around the bedroom, expecting to find her near the book shelves, but didn't. He grunted to himself before slipping out of bed and heading into the bathroom.

"Granger?"

The bathroom was bare with the exception of the debris left behind from what Hermione's destructive side had caused, and now he was starting to panic. Draco left the bathroom and called his wand to him. It flew into his hand just as he wrenched his bedroom door open and he scanned the halls.

"Granger?" He whispered her name. He went down the massively long corridor, checking every room he passed with a quick spell for signs of human life. The spell came back negative at every turn and his heart accelerated to dangerous speeds.

She couldn't have. _She_ _couldn't have!_ But then again, this was the same witch who had so boldly latched onto a Deatheater's arm, disapparating with him to only Merlin knew where with other Deatheaters within an arm's reach. It was right up her alley to do something so incredibly _stupid_ and rash despite being a smart witch.

Draco broke out into a run. He let his legs take him down various lefts and rights through insanely long hallways at record speeds –so fast in fact that his chest burned like fire by the time he reached Fiona's bedroom. He barged in, manners be damned, and immediately went on a frantic tirade.

"Fiona! Have you seen Granger? She wasn't-"

"Malfoy!" Fiona screamed as she hastily tried fixing her bedsheets around her. "Get out of here!"

Draco didn't move. He had momentarily forgotten why he had gone to her room because there, trying to get under the sheets with her, was Adrian.

And he was naked.

Draco cursed as he turned his back to them. "Bleeding hell! I'm never going to un-see that!"

"Oh, grow up, Malfoy." Adrian grumbled, although he was apparently just as embarrassed.

"Just get under the bloody covers!" Draco yelled with his gaze still fixated at the hall. He heard Fiona's exasperated groan.

"We're in, Draco. Now, what exactly did you so _rudely_ race into my room for?"

Draco sighed as he faced them again. "It doesn't matter. I can rightly assume that you two were too busy to see Granger."

Adrian furrowed his brow. "Why would we? She never leaves your suite."

"Or your room, for that matter." Fiona added.

"Well, she did today." Draco frowned. "I can't find her."

Fiona and Adrian exchanged nervous glances and summoned their clothes to them. Draco turned around once again so they could get dressed.

Fiona spoke nervously. "You don't think that a Deatheater got her, do you?"

"No, no. I'm positive that she left on her own."

"Left on her…? Draco Malfoy, what did you do to upset her?!"

"Nothing! She just has this terrible notion that she has to save everyone."

Adrian scoffed. "Sounds like she's picked up a few traits from Potter."

Draco huffed. "You're telling me."

"Draco," Fiona said as she placed a hand on his shoulder. He faced her and was met with her worried gaze. "Exactly where did she go to do said 'saving?'"

"I think you know." Draco replied grimly. "And if the Dark Lord doesn't kill her, I sure will."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Oh, so much happened here! I'll just let you digest it. The next chapter will be, without a doubt, pretty um... Yeah.

Happy reading!

-WP


	25. Green Light

Draco had once shown Hermione a coin of his own. It was meant for long-distance apparating, and so she nicked it from him that morning.

Hermione knew that Draco was probably foaming at the mouth back in Edinburgh, and she had to be honest. She was scared of what she was doing. She still believed that she wouldn't be killed upon her capture or even when brought before Voldemort. However, she did believe that she would be killed at some point. And honestly? It would be okay. It was just like she had told Draco during the night. She'd already been playing dead for the past two years. Her friends had been able to manage without her, so they could do it again. And Draco… Well, it was as she roamed London's streets that thinking of him gave her some pause. It was safe to say that he liked her –or at least liked her enough for them to become as "involved" as they did last night. He'd had his heart broken by the death of a girl he couldn't have. And now? With Hermione's imminent death, near or far, he'd be broken for yet a second time over someone that he _did_ have –albeit mostly in the physical sense. But whether physical, emotional, or even mental, having was having and Hermione feared what this would do to him in the long run.

She sighed as she pressed her back onto the wall of an alley.

"Hermione, you're an idiot." She berated herself.

She stuck her hand in her denims pocket and felt the coin that had got her here. All she wanted to do was to keep Draco safe. Fiona and Adrian too. If she didn't do this, what else could they do? This was, she determined, a pick your poison type of deal, but unfortunately both poisons were an awful slow burn.

A cackling laugh hit Hermione's ears and her heart stopped. She could recognize that laugh in her sleep and she kept her back against the wall as she tried to determine where it was coming from.

She truly didn't think that Deatheaters would be out and about so early –nor necessarily _in_ London. Her plan had been to walk around the city without any sort of disguise and let the rumors spread of her whereabouts. The search parties had been looking for her for nearly a week. It would only be wise to begin searching outside of London now, seeing as they hadn't found even a whisper of her yet. But then again, when were Deatheaters wise? Some were, yes, but they were back in Edinburgh. The others were crazed, in the dangerous sense, and of that group Hermione could hear her along the streets off to her right.

Of all the Deatheaters to find her, Hermione did _not_ want it to be Bellatrix. Hell, she'd take her husband first, but last she heard ole Rodolphus was a tad "incapacitated." She eased herself along the alley and to the left. There was a door up ahead and she wanted to slip inside. No, she hadn't completely regretted her decision, but now she was faced with picking between poison and dipping herself in acid.

She was by the door now, but before she could put her hand on it, it opened of its own accord. Hermione panicked. She didn't have her wand as she had purposefully left it back in Draco's bedroom. She cursed and then turned to flee, but felt a hand clasp itself over her mouth and the other grab her around the waist. Her instinct was to struggle, but then she remembered that she _wanted_ to be captured. And so, with a great stab of her pride, she stopped her fussing. She allowed the man at her back to pull her away into the abandoned shoppe, and when the door closed her panic mounted. This couldn't have been a Deatheater. Deatheaters were under strict orders to bring her to You-Know-Who, so why would any of them waste time by making a pit stop in a smelly, old, worn-down shoppe? A hideous thought ran across her mind that she had been taken in by a Snatcher.

In the three seconds it took for her abductor to release her and turn her around in his arms, Hermione had already run down five scenarios that, despite being wandless, would still leave her coming out on top. She was ready. This man was about to add to her atrocious body count, but she stopped dead at seeing who had done the kidnapping.

"Adrian?"

"Draco's going to kill you when he gets his hands on you!" Adrian said in a loud whisper. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Hermione scowled as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I was _thinking_ that I didn't want you, Fiona, or Draco squirming on the floor due to You-Know-Who's rage. Do forgive me for trying to save my friends' lives."

"By trading in yours? Merlin, you Gryffindors are too chivalrous for my taste. I couldn't be happier that the Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin than right now."

Hermione stared at him in surprise. "You were almost put into Gryffindor?"

Adrian smirked. "You'd be surprised for just how many Slytherin students that rings true. You have to admit, you've got to be pretty brave to willingly choose a House whose reputation is as slippery as its emblem. Come on, we have to get you out of here and back to Edinburgh."

"No. I'm still turning myself over."

Adrian chuckled. "Not if Draco's got anything to say about it." He pulled out a coin – _Hermione's_ coin from the Order –and pointed his wand at it. "I've got to say, these little things are nifty." He smiled as he stared at it. "Now both he and Fiona know where we are. They'll lead the other Deatheaters away from us just like he planned."

"Like he planned?" Hermione repeated. "How did he even know they would be here? For Merlin's sake, _I've_ only been here for twenty minutes!"

"He's the one who brought them here." Adrian explained. "This isn't his jurisdiction in the search, and he had to have a good reason for being here."

"He shouldn't be here at all! Neither should Fiona! They don't even know what Blaise told You-Know-Who!"

"It's a risk they chose to take. You're not the only one who's loyal to their friends."

Hermione slowly nodded. "I suppose so. Although for Draco I've never once thought of him as 'loyal' before."

"Maybe 'loyal' is a bit too strong of a word for him." Adrian said as he kept his eyes on the coin. Then he smirked wickedly. "'Whipped' seems more like it."

" _What?_ "

"Fiona and I saw his back after he barged into her room this morning." He looked up from the coin for a second and then grinned fully. "Who knew the fierce lioness was one in the sheets as well?"

Hermione blushed furiously at his words and she refused to look at him. Although, her own smirk came to her lips as she asked, "So, what were you doing in Fiona's room so early in the morning, may I ask?"

She turned back to him, but his attention was far from hers. Adrian was looking down at the coin again before he tossed it to her.

"Keep that. We're in the clear, but to keep up appearances I can't be seen with you. You head left while I go right to the others. There are wards around this place so you can only apparate in but not out. You have to make it past Euclid Avenue to do that. Oh, and before I forget." Adrian rummaged on the inside of his jacket, pulled out a wand, and passed it to her. "Have a little fun on the way, yeah?"

Hermione smiled as she felt Theo's wand, _her wand_ , in her hand. "I'll go down swinging. But here," she said as she passed him back her coin. "In case things go bad, I don't want this on me."

Adrian reluctantly nodded and hugged her quickly before slipping out of the shoppe. Hermione followed shortly after and darted left. At the end of the alley she stopped, carefully looking left and right for any signs of Deatheaters. She breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't see any, but her heartrate was erratic at the thought of Draco, Fiona, and Adrian out with the horde of monsters looking for her. It was Draco who had brought them there. Draco, who had probably told them that he had a lead on her. And it was _Draco_ whose head would be on the chopping block when they didn't find her.

Hermione's chest constricted at the thought of it as she hustled her way down one street just to turn down another. She had just made another left when she skidded to a halt at two Deatheaters at the end of the block.

"It's the mudblood!" One she recognized as Flint Senior shouted at her. Hermione raised her wand with full knowledge that her actions would both boost her pride as well as take a horrible stab at her conscience.

"Avada Kedavra!"

She didn't wait to see if her curse made contact. Hermione took off in the other direction and ran like hell.

* * *

"Spread out!" Bellatrix shouted at everyone. "Find the mudblood!"

Even from a distance his aunt's voice rang loudly in his ears. Or maybe it was just his senses kicking in overdrive the higher his anxiety went? Draco didn't know, but he kept fingering the gold coin Hermione had given him in his pocket and waiting for it to get warm. Only then would he know that Adrian had found her and how best to distract these bloody bastards.

"What if Adrian doesn't…?"

"Don't even say that." Draco hissed at Fiona. Neither of them had to fake in their searching and they both kept their eyes wide and alert –not only on what they were doing, but also on the Deatheaters.

Hermione had left both Theo's wand and her coin behind that morning. Draco had seen it as somewhat opportune and snatched the coin and handed it to Adrian. He had put him in charge of Hermione and had sent him ahead to go find her. Adrian had been happy to oblige, but had also wondered what he and Fiona would be doing if they weren't going with him. Draco had gulped, but explained that he was going to his aunt and to tell her that there was news on Hermione's whereabouts in London.

Both Fiona and Adrian had thought him insane, but how else would they explain their presence in London? So here they were, desperately hoping to find Hermione before someone else did.

Draco felt Fiona grab him by the arm and he carefully fell back with her in the shadows of an alley. She pulled out what was once Ron's coin but now hers and read off of it. "Found. G, R, E, Street. The hell? That's not a street."

"No, but 'Greene' street is." Draco said as he took out his own coin. He glanced up at the street signs above him and swore. "Damn it, we're too close." He quickly pointed his wand at the coin and sent Adrian instructions. Once he was done and the coin pocketed, he aimed his wand elsewhere –more specifically at a tall building in the distance. "This ought to get everyone moving."

The spell that Draco shot in the air was one of his own making. Diversions were necessary in war and so this neat little spell allowed him to do just that. It gave no color as it shot through the sky, and he only knew it had hit its target until and a chunk of the building exploded, cascading debris onto the ground beneath it.

Draco sent another one some seconds later at a building next to the one he'd already hit and then he pulled Fiona along to rest of the Deatheaters who were already scrambling.

"Head to it! Head to it!" Someone shouted, and Draco and Fiona hurried from the shadows to join the Deatheater scramble. Draco did a quick headcount as they did so and noted that all of the second-generation Deatheaters were here. Of the older ones there was his aunt leading the way, Rowle, and, regrettably, his father. Although, as he continued to survey the scene, he realized instantly that something was wrong.

"Theo's father," Draco said to Fiona. "Where's Theo's father?"

Fiona frantically looked around but shook her head. "I don't know. Marcus' father isn't here either."

"Damn it," Draco swore. How both Nott and Flint Senior managed to get and stay within Voldemort's inner circle astounded him. Their evil overlord wanted _compliant_ followers, but the aforementioned Deatheaters were as rogue as it got. They were always the first ones to break rank and go off on their own. But, perhaps, that was their gift. Their gut instincts were ridiculously on point. Draco hated to admit it, but they were quite the inspiration and possibly led to his own skills in that regard.

They hadn't been fooled by Draco's diversion, and now they had to find them _and_ Hermione.

"Oi, where are you two going?" Blaise asked as he ran to catch up to Draco and Fiona. Draco's lips exercised itself in a few more curses before his friend drew near, towing along Astoria by his side. Both traitors glanced at each other knowing full-well that this little meetup would be a disaster.

"Searching for Granger." Draco replied, the grip on his wand tightening. He was keeping a clear watch on his periphery. If he took down Blaise right here, how many Deatheaters would see them? Astoria would have to go as well, and he smiled inwardly at Fiona who seemed to be thinking along his same train of thought.

"Are you?" Blaise replied with a slight curve of his mouth. "Then you should be with everyone else."

"We could, but then we'd be wrong. She was in our year, Blaise, and you know as much about her as I do. Do you _really_ think she'd draw that much attention to herself? Seeing as she's kept herself hidden for two years says otherwise."

"Besides," Fiona cut in. "Neither Theo's nor Flint's fathers are here. They must be on to something."

Blaise's eyes settled on Fiona and his snarl was evident. It made her gulp and Draco took an instinctual, albeit unnoticed step to keep her behind him.

"Then let's stop wasting time and get going." Astoria said while placing a firm hand on Blaise's arm. He looked at her and she gave him a nod that would've normally gone unnoticed were it anyone but Draco.

"Fine," Blaise conceded as he turned his eyes on Fiona. "We should split up and cover more ground. You and I can go together."

"That leaves you with me, Draco!" Astoria continued happily as she walked up to him and grabbed his arm. Draco didn't move, however, and felt a sinking feeling in his chest as Fiona left him and went to Blaise's side.

Draco began to shake his head. "I don't-"

"It's fine." Fiona told him with a nod. "We're wasting enough time as it is."

"First one to Granger wins." Blaise smiled. He winked too, and Draco watched with dread as he walked away briskly with Fiona behind him.

"Come on, Draco." Astoria urged. He complied, and they both headed in the direction of Greene Street while he was trying to think of a plan. Luckily for the witch beside him, that plan resulted in a simple Stunning Spell and the total wiping of her memories. Were she anyone else Draco would have killed her, but as it stood she was harmless. A nuisance, yes, but absolutely harmless. That was why he began to chuckle some as the two of them made it to Greene Street where Hermione had last been.

"Put it down, Greengrass." Draco said as he peered around a corner. He hadn't even turned around to face her, but he knew what it felt like to have a wand on him.

Astoria huffed. "Aren't you even going to turn around?"

Draco laughed. "No."

"I could kill you!"

"You'd be dead before you could even try." He replied as he finally faced her. He found the sight funny to be honest. Astoria had a determined look about her, that was for sure, but her wand hand was shaking. She wasn't meant to be a Deatheater. Everyone knew that she'd only become one because her sister Daphne, a much better offensive fighter, had been branded. Out of everyone, she was the only one who seemed innocent to him.

"Blaise told you to kill me, didn't he?"

Astoria struggled with whether or not to admit it, but ultimately decided to go the neutral route. "So what if he did or didn't?"

Draco crossed his arms, his wand jetting out from his hand as he did so. "Let's assume he did. Did he even tell you why?"

Astoria paused. "I…well…"

"Open your eyes, Astoria." Draco pressed. "He asked you, someone who, compared to me, is nothing more than a First Year when it comes to magic, to kill me. He sent you to die."

Astoria stared at him angrily. "I'm a good witch!"

"And you're focusing on the insignificant." He argued calmly as he took a step closer to her. His face was near hers now, and she looked frightened. "Blaise. Sent you. _To die_. He sacrificed you, Greengrass. You'd better wise up and realize that."

Just at that moment Draco heard a scream. His heart plummeted in his chest because he knew Hermione's voice anywhere. It wasn't incredibly near, but it wasn't far either, and so he ran off, leaving Astoria behind as she processed her station in life.

* * *

Out of all of her time on the run Hermione had never run so hard. She was just happy that despite the fact she hadn't won Theo's wand, it was still a magnificent fit. It was hard trying to run and cast spells at the same time, but she was sure trying. "Avadas" left her lips more often than it had in recent weeks and each time it tore her up on the inside. Yes, she was being chased by a Deatheater. Yes, he was tossing spells and curses at her. But his magic was meant to maim, she knew, while hers was meant to kill. This was the first time she had ever chose an Unforgivable as her choice in offensive magic.

Hermione hit the ground quickly when she was met with Rowle up ahead. Theo's father's spell, for it could be no one other than him, got Rowle and the man doubled over instantly. Hermione didn't want to risk getting up to run and so she rolled over on her back.

"Locomotor Mortis!" Hermione shouted, but Nott Senior merely deflected it. He was standing over her now with one of his brows raised.

"You've been casting the Killing Curse in my direction from the moment you spotted me." He said calmly. "And yet now that I'm standing over you _that's_ what you come up with?"

Hermione swallowed, her wand still raised. "Better that than to have you redirect the Killing Curse at me."

He smiled. "Smart girl. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord has his orders. But of course, a little torturing beforehand won't hurt anyone. Except you."

The Cruciatus Curse shot out of his wand and collided with Hermione with such a force that it pushed her into the ground. No matter how many times she'd been struck by that curse before, it always felt new. She likened the experience to what it must feel like to be electrocuted. Or to a thousand knives carving into her at once. Or being set on fire. Or even being dipped in acid. Her body arched wildly where she lay and she feared she'd break her teeth with how hard she was clamping down on them. When she did open her mouth, however, an earth-shattering scream escaped her lips that could be heard across continents.

And then the pain stopped.

Hermione's body relaxed although residual spasms still shook her. Theo's father stepped beside her and bent over. She flinched on instinct, but he did nothing to her. Instead he picked up something and raised it to his eyes.

"This," Nott Senior said with dark eyes as inspected the valued object, "is my son's wand."

"It was, but now it's hers."

Nott turned around to face Draco whose lips had already begun saying the Killing Curse. It had been meant to hit him in the back, and Draco regretted the fact that the old man had faced him when he died. It wasn't that he felt anything for him. On the contrary, like many of the Deatheaters he hated him. It was only that Nott Senior looked very much like his son and it was almost like Theo had died twice.

Draco pushed the imagery out of his mind and focused on the new one that made his stomach churn. He rushed over to Hermione's side and helped to ease her to a sitting position.

"Granger, are you _trying_ to give me a bloody heart attack? Why did you leave?!"

"I was _trying_ to protect you, you arse!" Hermione explained. She brought a hand up to her nose and realized she was bleeding. "How the hell was I supposed to know you were going to come after me?"

Draco rolled his eyes and went on to mumble, "Brightest witch my arse," before he cupped her face and brought her lips to his. When he pulled away he shook his head at her and pushed aside some of her hair from her face.

"I'll _always_ go after you. No matter how livid I am."

Hermione tilted her head some and smiled. "Are you livid now?"

Draco chuckled. "Extremely. Now come on, I've got to get you out of here. Every Deatheater must be on their way after that scream of yours."

Hermione nodded, but before she could begin to get up she heard Adrian's voice.

"Draco get down!"

Draco took his words to heart and ducked down, dragging Hermione with him. A jet of green light soared overhead and Draco rolled over in time to see Astoria fall to the ground. Behind her was Adrian with his wand out.

"She went and lost her marbles." Adrian said once Draco and Hermione were near him. "I found her wandering about, muttering your name and something about being a 'good witch.' I figured I'd follow and that's when I saw her aiming her wand at you."

"Damn," Draco frowned. He had already known that being a Deatheater wasn't meant for her, but apparently war in general hadn't been good to her either.

"Where's Fiona?" Hermione asked Adrian, but it was Draco who answered.

"With Blaise,"

" _Blaise?!_ " both Adrian and Hermione shouted. Draco regrettably nodded.

"It couldn't be helped. Adrian you have to-"

"I'll find her." He said quickly before turning on his heel. "Just get her out of here!"

* * *

Fiona had had her reservations about going with Blaise, but if anyone were to find Hermione, it would be Draco. The last thing he needed to was to have Blaise tagging along with him, and so she sucked it up. The two of them headed away from the other mass of Deatheaters and immediately Fiona felt vulnerable. It didn't help that he had slowed down their hurried steps to something more of a casual walk.

"So, tell me." Blaise said as they headed down the street. "How long have you and dear ole Draco been traitors?"

Fiona stopped walking, but Blaise jammed his wand into her back.

"You can still answer my question and keep walking, Carrow."

Fiona took a deep breath, swallowed, and did as he said. "Draco's not a traitor."

Blaise shook his head. "That's not how Theo spun it."

"Theo lied."

Fiona felt his wand stab her just a bit harder and she resisted every urge not to swing around and curse him. She could try. She really could, but she didn't make it this long as a spy by fighting every battle. She knew how to pick them because she could analyze her opponents well. Between the two of them Blaise was a much better fighter. She'd be dead before she could properly face him.

"Answer my question."

"….Draco's only in this because of me." Fiona answered carefully. "Out of the two of us, I'm the bigger traitor because I've been one the longest."

She heard Blaise scoff from behind her. "Right. You've forgotten that I've seen you fight. If you're the original traitor then I'm a fairy."

He was laughing at his own joke and Fiona rolled her eyes. They were heading to a three-way intersection where the only option was to go left or right. She ran through all of the possibilities in her head and came up with the best case scenario to get away from Blaise. She didn't want to risk her life by attempting to kill him, but slowing him down so she could at least be in the vicinity of other Deatheaters would be best. It was obvious that he wanted to do away with her in private, if not he would've killed her long ago no matter who was watching.

"You know, Blaise," she said as they began to turn left. "You should really learn not to underestimate people."

The moment they had turned, Fiona had felt the tip of Blaise's wand ease up from her. That's when she struck. She turned around abruptly, knowing that it would take at least two seconds for him to properly adjust his wand. That gave her one second to cast her spell that sent Blaise back and skidding on his arse.

Fiona took off running down the rest of the street. As she did she heard a scream and instantly knew that it was Hermione. It wasn't wise to change direction and head towards her, but what if Draco or Adrian weren't there to help her? She _had_ to be there, and so she continued to run until she found herself stopping abruptly at the sight of a body on the ground. Her heart stopped immediately as she approached. She relaxed when she realized it wasn't Hermione. But then she frowned when she realized who it was.

"Oh, Astoria," Fiona said sadly as she kneeled down beside her. Astoria didn't belong there. In fact, Fiona had pleaded with Daphne desperately not to take the Mark because they both knew her little sister would follow. _"I'll be there to protect her,"_ Daphne had said. Fiona was scoffing at that now because Big Sister Daphne had been nowhere in sight to keep her sister from bleeding out on the ground.

As Fiona continued to look at her, she wondered who would share the blame in Astoria's death. Very few Deatheaters would turn on each other, and so she could only surmise that it was either Adrian, Draco, or Hermione. If death had been intended, Astoria would already be lifeless. As it stood, there were several rocks nearby and a steady pool of blood was around her head. Her death would be a shared one because Fiona had decided to put her out of her misery and stop the poor girl from gasping silently.

"Interesting,"

Fiona whipped around with her wand aimed, but she was quickly disarmed. She gulped as she stood and stared at Blaise whose gaze was towards Astoria on the ground.

"There goes any future threesomes with the Greengrass sisters." He commented. "With Theo dead and Draco preoccupied with a certain mudblood, I would've had them all to myself. Pity,"

Fiona watched Blaise carefully. His attention was still on Astoria, and while it was she inched her hand towards a small vial in her back pocket that she'd had a house elf fetch for her that morning.

"That was cute what you did back there." Blaise said as he finally looked up at her. "But unfortunately you'll have to pay for that. Now, what to do with you?"

"Not a damn thing," Fiona replied and then smashed the potion at his feet. Smoke filled the air between them instantly and she ran. She ran hard and fast down one street and then the other. She didn't know where to begin looking for her friends, but if she could just make it to a group of Deatheaters (Merlin, she never thought she'd say that!) then she'd be okay.

At the end of her third street she skidded to a halt, but that didn't stop herself from running into Blaise's arms as he apparated in front of her.

"Did you know," he began as he threw her to the ground and conjured binds onto her hands and feet. "That whenever you run from someone your instinct is always to go right, left, right?" Blaise chuckled as he kneeled down in front of her. "I've been watching you for a long time Fiona, and you, love, are one predictable witch."

Fiona could feel herself on the brink of hyperventilating, but she willed herself not to. Not when Blaise stood. Not when he pointed his wand at her. Not when she saw the beginnings of the light that would end her life. And not when she felt, rather than saw, the world go dark.

* * *

 **Author's note:** *ducks behind wall and puts up a barrier* I'm sorry! I'm _really_ , really sorry. Draco's not going to like that. And Adrian… Hurt my heart having to do this, honestly, but I'll make it up to you, promise.

The rest of this fight isn't over, so be ready!

-WP


	26. Helpless

The mere thought that Fiona was with Blaise made Adrian want to vomit. It didn't help that he felt like he was running a marathon –and losing. Every street he turned happened to have a Deatheater there, but not the ones he was looking for. His mind began to wander over to Draco and Hermione. If they hadn't made it out yet then the odds of them actually doing so were getting slimmer by the second. Maybe he could make a diversion of some sort to ensure their safety? It was a shot. It was a really good shot. He could-

"Don't go biting my head off, Pucey." Blaise said. He was lowering his wand and looking up at him, his free hand over his chest and squeezing it. "I know you're about Deatheater solidarity and all that, but she was a traitor and had to be dealt with."

Adrian couldn't speak. All he could do was stare at the crumpled body of the girl –the _woman_ –he'd been in love with for years. Fiona was dead, and it was at the hands of the man who was standing before him as though what he'd done bore no weight at all.

There were no thoughts running through his mind. Well, no, that wasn't true. There was one thought in particular, and it involved him performing a vicious murder. The Killing Curse was too good for Blaise. He needed to suffer. He needed to be subjected to a cruel and slow death. Adrian could just imagine it. He'd use a spell he knew that was reserved for engravings. It could very well be used on skin and he would absolutely _relish_ in the act of carving Fiona's name into Blaise repeatedly so that he never forgot the horrific pain that Adrian was now going through.

Adrian raised his wand arm, ready to knock Blaise unconscious, drag him into the nearest abandoned shoppe, and get started on his neck –right above the jugular.

Unfortunately he didn't get to do anything because his left arm began to burn. Blaise felt it too and he grit his arm.

"I guess the search for Granger is over." Blaise announced.

* * *

While Adrian took off one way, Hermione and Draco went another direction. Deatheaters were starting to spread themselves all over and they had to be careful not to be seen. All they had to do was make it through a few more streets. Once they made it past the wards Hermione could use Draco's coin to get out of there.

Hermione yanked Draco back when she saw a crowd of Deatheaters up ahead. Draco swore. There were even _more_ Deatheaters here than there'd been to begin with. They had to go back the other way. Sure, there had been two Deatheaters to sneak by in the first place, but a quick spell could get them out of their way. And then-

"Draco, stop." Hermione said. Draco's train of thought did indeed come to a halt and he looked at her as she slowly shook her head. "You can't get me out of here. Not without exposing yourself."

"So, what? You want me to let you tackle these mongrels alone?" Draco scoffed. "Fat chance,"

"Of course not. I'm saying… I'm saying that I'm not tackling anyone. I'm going to go through with my plan."

Draco had been holding onto her wrist as they went down street after street. At her words his hold on her had immediately tightened to the point of blood constriction.

"You are _not_ turning yourself over." He said fiercely. "You're _**not**_. Do you hear me?"

"Draco-"

"I said no!" Draco shouted in a harsh whisper as he grabbed her shoulders. "You're going to die if you get captured. Why don't you get that?"

"I get it fine." Hermione relied solemnly. "I also get that you'll die if I stay. And honestly? If one of us is to go, I'd rather it not be you."

Draco's heart was racing and his mind was going a million miles a minute. Deatheaters were getting closer. He could hear more than just footsteps now –voices and clear conversations. They were running out of time. No, they had _no_ time. If Hermione was going to be taken in, he had to make sure that he was alive to see the outcome of this horrible event.

Draco kissed her once and made sure to take his coin back from her. Hermione gave him her wand and he slipped it from her fingers, making it disappear like he'd done many times before. She sat down on the ground of her own accord and a bubble emerged in his chest as he used his wand to bind her hands and feet. There were tears in her eyes and he wondered what they were for. Was it because she finally realized the situation she had single-handedly put herself in? Or was it something else?

"Well, look at that! He got her!"

"Damn, I wanted to catch the mudblood!"

"At least none of us will be tortured today."

Everything his fellow Deatheaters were saying sounded like muffled nonsense in Draco's ears. He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't feel anything. He couldn't see anything. No, that last part was a lie. He could still see, but his vision was centered solely on the bound brunette witch who was throwing invisible daggers at her enemies.

The only thing that rustled him from his line of focus were the lips of his aunt pressing against his temple and then her words shortly after. "Well done, nephew. The Dark Lord will be pleased."

Although the gravity of the situation had always been known, it hadn't really hit him until right at that moment. Hermione too, because she struggled against two Deatheaters who had grabbed her by her arms to pull her up.

"Be quiet!" Bellatrix ordered and then raised her wand to stun her into silence. Draco watched as Hermione's head rolled back and her body grew limp. His aunt removed the anti-apparation wards, thus allowing Hermione to be taken away by the Deatheaters. Once she was gone everyone in the immediate vicinity began to follow, including Draco, and his eyes found Hermione the moment he got to Malfoy Manor.

Draco's arm was burning like mad, but he didn't care. Hermione was still bound and she was in the center of the room, surrounded by Deatheaters –a lot of them. Some he saw often. Some not so much because they were stationed elsewhere and governed Voldemort's territories. Others were easily forgotten because he rarely saw them at all. They were always out on missions –missions that Draco was now sure had to do with the Hallows.

Adrian showed up on the other side of the room. Draco's brows furrowed when he didn't see Fiona with him, but they were too far from each other for him to ask about her. Instead he began to scan the crowded room for her, but stopped once he realized that the chattering mass had gone silent.

Voldemort looked neither happy nor angry, and that was an awful sign. The man was unpredictable as it was, but now he was undoubtedly unreadable.

With his floor-length robes travelling behind him, Voldemort stood in front of Hermione. He used his wand to wake her from Bellatrix's Stunning Spell. Once she was alert she was smart to look afraid because bravery at a time like this would only incite his anger and lead to her death.

"You look well for someone who should have died twice by now." Voldemort said as he looked down at her. He had his wand in hand, but it wasn't aimed. "Tell me, mudblood, do you have Healer training at all?"

Hermione didn't say anything. Draco was silently willing her to keep her mouth shut, but it was unnecessary seeing as Voldemort had spoken again.

"Although an injury such as I heard you'd acquired would have needed great care and attention. Someone had to have helped you."

Draco's stomach flipped and he tried to catch Adrian's eye, but the man's attention was far from him. He seemed...distant. His body was there, sure, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. And where the hell was Fiona?

The sound of a hard thud hit Draco's ears and he turned back to Hermione, hoping beyond hope that what he heard hadn't been her body collapsing to the floor. When he took in the scene, however, he'd found out that he was half right. There was, indeed, a body on the floor, but it wasn't Hermione. Right next to her, sprawled in a way that looked very much like a carelessly discarded doll, was Fiona.

Draco had to grit his teeth to keep his face as stoic as possible. From across the way Adrian was doing a miserable job of hiding his emotions and the look he was giving Blaise, who was amongst the crowd closest to Voldemort, was nothing short of pure, volatile hatred. Hermione couldn't hold in her gasp nor the tears that flowed freely down her cheeks.

"I see that the two of you were once acquainted." Voldemort said smugly. He suddenly looked up and addressed his followers. "This," he pointed his wand at Fiona's body, "is what happens when you betray me. Incendio,"

Fiona's body burst into flames and Hermione did her best to scurry away so as not to get caught in the blaze. Draco's hands were in his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he watched the terrible scene before him. He didn't want to look over at Adrian. His face at seeing her dead was enough to last him several lifetimes as it was.

"I will _not_ tolerate traitors." He said loudly, his gaze passing over each and every one of his followers –Draco the longest. The blond didn't flinch. He was, however, wondering now more than ever what Blaise had told him. It was obvious that he had outed Fiona, but what about him? Why wasn't he dead?

"Draco,"

"My lord," he answered without pause.

"Come,"

Draco stepped from the crowd and made his way to the center of the room. He felt sick. From where he stood he had an up close and personal view of Fiona's burning corpse and Hermione's fearful and saddened face. He ignored both and set his focus on Voldemort whose own had drifted to the living witch on the floor.

"It would give me nothing but pleasure to kill you-"

Draco's body stiffened.

"-but fortunately for you, you are a resource to drain dry before you are disposed of. However,"

Hermione gasped as Voldemort's hand clasped around her throat. Draco restrained from every impulse to intervene and instead watched helplessly as his insides twisted uncontrollably.

"You are quite the stubborn mudblood." Voldemort sneered as he applied pressure to his hold. Hermione was struggling for air, but he, of course, didn't care. "I will need you to be compliant. Draco," he said as he let Hermione go. She coughed and wheezed once she was free, and her sounds tore at the blond viciously.

"Yes, my lord?"

Voldemort smiled. "Make her _compliant_."

Draco hid his gulp, but it did nothing to stop the lump that formed in his throat. "Yes...my lord."

Hermione looked up at him with those eyes he'd analyzed time and time again. He internally begged her for her forgiveness as he raised his wand. "Imperio,"

The curse hit her dead on and everyone in the room grinned maliciously as it happened. But it wouldn't be enough. Draco had to say it. He had to make it absolutely sure, and he cringed unnoticeably as the words left his mouth.

"You will do whatever the Dark Lord asks you to do. You will not complain. You will not resist."

Draco didn't cast the curse that strongly. Hermione was an Occlumens, and so it should've helped her fight the curse. All she had to do was the play the part. Right? So she had once said, she was one of the best damn actors out there, wasn't she? Yet no matter the reasoning, seeing the glazed look in Hermione's eyes, along with Fiona's death, was the worst pain he had ever felt.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, Hermione had never once been Imperiused in all the years the war had been going on. Now, she'd never done drugs before, but she imagined that the feeling she had now was quite similar.

She felt...light. All of her fear and anxiety had just melted away and now she was just... _there._ There and nowhere, she supposed. She was thankful to Draco for not casting the curse as strongly as he could have. She knew because that was the only way that she _could_ be thankful. The Imperius Curse takes away everything that's you. Your thoughts. Your will. Your drives and your desires. Hermione, she realized, still had all of that. She imagined she could defy Voldemort if she wanted to, but she wouldn't. It would only out Draco as a traitor, and if that happened then all of this would've been for nothing.

Fiona's death would've been for thing.

Hermione wanted to cry, but she didn't. Imperiused people didn't have emotions, and so she gladly let the curse envelop her in that regard so she wouldn't feel guilty. She had left to protect them all and it had ended up doing the opposite.

And Adrian! Poor Adrian… He was clearly smitten with Fiona. Hell, he may have even loved her. And now she was gone. Hermione wouldn't blame him if he never spoke to her again. _If_ he ever managed to speak to her again. For all she knew Malfoy Manor was the last stop for her. Adrian wasn't high up on the Deatheater favoritism pole for him to be granted access to the dungeons. So, that had been it. The last memory of him would be of his heartbroken visage at his girlfriend dead and on fire.

It sent chills up Hermione's spine.

More chills followed after that but it had nothing to do with Adrian. Voldemort had come down to the dungeons and Hermione immediately made herself numb to every thought and emotion.

"Stand,"

Hermione stood.

"Come closer,"

She came closer.

"I have a task for you, mudblood, and you will accomplish it with due diligence. Understood?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, my lord."

Voldemort smiled. "Good." He waved his wand once and inside Hermione's cell was soon littered in books. From her periphery she could see a few that were banned from the general public for its dark magic, and others, curiously enough, were fairytales. "You will comb through these books as though your life depended on it –which in fact it does. You will use them to find a way to track the Deathly Hallows."

"Yes, my lord."

Voldemort left Hermione's presence without another word. She continued to stand there until she heard the dungeon door slam. After that she let all emotion bleed right back into her as she stared at the dozens upon dozens of books that littered her cell. Even if she wasn't Imperiused she would've dove into the treasure chest that was her prison eagerly. _This_ is what she had wanted from the beginning. Granted all she had wanted was to know what the consequences of having all three Hallows were, but to be able track them? She could find out, slip the information to Draco or Adrian somehow, and let them tell the Order what to do. It was perfect.

And so, Hermione sat down and got to work, quite possibly becoming the first prisoner to ever be happy about her predicament.

* * *

The congratulatory remarks given to Draco as Deatheaters passed by him made him feel like a vile creature. He wanted to curse them all. He wanted to _obliterate_ them all.

But he didn't. He looked down at Fiona's burned-to-a-crisp body and imagined her alive and well, putting a hand on his shoulder, and urging him to get a grip. So he did. He took a deep breath and joined the massively long line towards the Floo so that he could head back to his sanctuary and break down in private. A hand stopped him, however, and although impractical he had expected Fiona, but it was his mother.

"I didn't know you were here." Draco said, his voice thick and heavy. Her mother nodded in understanding.

"Your father sent for me." She explained. "He thought it important for me to witness what was going to happen."

Draco scowled and immediately searched for his father. He found him speaking amicably with Fiona's mother and uncle. Her relatives didn't look the least bit upset that she was gone and it made his scowl deepen.

"Father shouldn't have brought you. You shouldn't have seen-"

"I have lived a war just like this before, Draco." Narcissa said. "There's nothing I haven't seen. Now, let's go somewhere and talk."

Draco sighed. "I don't feel like talking, Mother. I just want to go back to the castle and rest."

"I understand. However, I should point out that you'll be waiting for Floo access for some time by the looks of this mass exodus. Humor your mother, sweetheart."

Draco groaned. He was in no mood to fight. Not after what had just happened. He grudgingly agreed and followed his mother away from the hideous line where Adrian was far ahead in while Blaise was towards the back.

"Do you want to know why the Dark Lord makes me laugh, Draco?"

Her son stared at her as though she'd sprouted a third eye. Narcissa did indeed laugh and put away her wand. They had walked into a nearby parlor room and she had put up Silencing and Locking Charms.

"He thinks he's so powerful, that _nothing_ can escape his knowledge. But no one is better at such a task than a mother towards her children." Narcissa smiled warmly at her son and sat down on a sofa. "I don't know how, I don't know when, and I don't want to know. Doing what you did to that Granger girl hurt you. You've...done far worse over the years, but this has hurt you the most.

'If you want her to make it out alive, then you _must_ pull yourself together. You're no good to her a crumpled, emotional mess."

Draco's jaw had slackened as his mother spoke. She simply continued to sit there, a pleasant expression radiating off of her while his resolve was slowly starting to falter. She stood then and pulled her son into a hug. He didn't cry, but Merlin did he want to. No matter how much on the mark his mother was, he wouldn't let her see him completely broken.

Narcissa pulled away from him some and kissed him on the forehead. "You are a wonderful boy, Draco –a wonderful _man_. You are a Slytherin because of your resourcefulness, and I have no doubts that this will turn in your favor however you decide to play it."

His mother let him go then and undid the charms on the door before heading out. Draco took several deep breaths to steady himself before leaving the parlor room and heading back out to the main fireplace. He cursed when he realized that there was still a few people left to go before him. He'd had enough of this place and wanted to leave _now_. And so, he stuck his hand in his pocket to pull out his coin he had taken from Hermione. His brows knitted together when he felt something else in there that didn't belong.

He took them both out, finding _two_ coins in his hand. One was used for apparating, and the other had the faint initials of "F.C." written there. Draco put the latter back into his pocket quickly and had to fight hard to choke back a sob. Fiona had made _him_ her next of kin. He couldn't believe it. It could've been Georgie, Andy, or Gavin –someone who'd been on her side the longest. It could've been Adrian. But no. She had chosen him, of all people, to receive her coin in case she'd died.

"Damn it." Draco mumbled to himself as he prepared to disapparate.

"Don't leave without me. This wait is ridiculous." Came Blaise's voice. He was at Draco's side and smiling broadly, although it appeared that he had some sort of bodily harm. He was wincing terribly –not that Draco cared.

All the cards were in Draco's hands right now. He could apparate them somewhere far and unknown, bound and gag him, torture him to the brink of death, let him heal, and then do it all over again.

But no, he had to control himself. Too many lives were on the line for him to just lose it.

"Grab on so we can get the hell out of here." Draco said roughly. Blaise cocked one brow at the man's demeanor, but did as he said. They were both gone from Malfoy Manor within seconds and soon in the hills of Edinburgh Castle. They both walked into the castle in silence. They traversed the halls in the same manner. Draco had been running through various ways to do away with him, and each one brought a temporary satisfaction to him.

"What's the matter, Draco? You seem upset."

Draco stopped walking. He turned harsh eyes on him and glared. "You killed Fiona."

It wasn't an accusation. Adrian wouldn't have looked so deadly when staring at Blaise if he hadn't. Not to mention Draco had seen the way Blaise had been looking at Fiona as he stood near Voldemort. He'd been proud. He _always_ looked proud after one of his kills. Even now he had a smug demeanor about him.

"She was a traitor." Blaise said with a lazy shrug –another wince. "She deserved to die."

Draco felt his blood boil. His wand hand was itching to reach for the piece of wood and so that he could drop Blaise in a crumpled heap, but he refrained. Instead he decided to ask a pertinent question.

"I suppose you think I deserve to die just the same?"

Blaise took time to contemplate his answer, even going so far as to stroke his chin. The action made Draco want to kill him even more. "Considering you brought the mudblood to us? Not anymore. Think of it as a…reprieve."

With that Blaise walked away, whistling a tune as he went. Draco watched him as he headed down the corridor and immediately decided that he needed to go. He needed to get back to his suite so that he could properly lash out and destroy everything in sight. If he didn't, his inner rage would bubble over and it would take out everyone within range.

Adrian, apparently, hadn't gotten the memo. He seemed to have been waiting for Blaise to return to the hall where his bedroom lay and suddenly stormed in that direction. The man had his wand drawn and he looked angrier than Voldemort on his worst day.

Draco quickly sprang into action and grabbed Adrian by the arm. "Pucey,"

Adrian wrenched his arm away from him. "Get off of me."

Draco latched his hand back on him. "No. I can't let you kill him."

"Screw you, Malfoy!" Adrian snapped as he pulled himself out of Draco's grasp. "Don't you dare tell me what to do. That bastard killed Fiona. He _killed_ her. And now, I'm going to tear his skin off. There's a curse I know that can do just that."

Adrian took off down the hall again, but Draco was right on him. He grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him into the wall. Adrian was seething. An arm of his swung out in an attempt to punch him, but Draco ducked. The blond got him once in the stomach and Adrian held it as he doubled over.

" _Adrian,_ " Draco said forcefully as he held him up. Adrian stopped fighting him and finally looked at him. He sighed as he took out Fiona's coin and slipped it into Adrian's hand. "You'll get to avenge Fiona. I promise you that. But now isn't the time."

Adrian coughed as he straightened up, taking the coin and raising it to his eyes. They watered as he read Fiona's initials and he let his hand envelope the coin. "We'll get your girl and go after the man who took mine, yeah?"

Draco nodded as he clapped a hand on Adrian's back. "Yeah,"

Adrian took a deep breath and left. He and Draco agreed to meet up later that night since they had a lot to discuss. This…what had happened… It was a lot to take in. It was _too_ much. The moment Draco's bedroom door closed he pressed himself against it, closed his eyes and squeezed them tight. His chest felt constricted, so much so that he could barely take in any air. Was he even standing anymore? No, it appeared not. He had slid down the door and plopped down on his arse as his breathing grew erratic. He let his shaking hands travel to his head and he gripped his hair viciously.

"Not again, not again…" Draco kept repeating to himself. Over and over like a mantra the words left him. "It's you all over again."

"Draco. Draco, please. You shouldn't torture yourself like this."

"She's going to die." He said as tears shamelessly fell down his cheeks. Giselle was kneeling before him, worry clearly etched onto her face. "She's going to die just like you did."

"No, she won't." Giselle reassured him. She reached up and removed his hands from his hair and took them in hers. "You won't let anything happen to her."

Draco scoffed loudly. "I promised you the same, didn't I?"

"Yes, but-"

"No buts," he shook his head. "I failed then, and your predicaments are virtually the same. What makes you so sure that I can save her when I couldn't save you?"

Giselle smiled. "Because you only told me you loved me hours before You-Know-Who killed me. Before you realized that you didn't want to live without me."

More tears flooded his face and his body rocked with his sobbing. Giselle placed a finger under his chin and made him look at her.

"Love can make you do many things, Draco. And while you may not love her just yet, you do care for her enough that you could one day. That alone will make you want to do everything you can to make sure she lives. I'm sure of it."

 _Love can make you do many things._

Giselle was right. No, he didn't love Hermione. He hadn't been around her long enough to develop such feelings. But as for what he _did_ feel? He didn't want her to die. He'd feel lost if she did. He'd do any and everything he could to make that sure she lived. And if he was willing to do that for someone he didn't love, what lengths would he go through for her if some day he did?

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, _that_ was a lot. So yes, Fiona's dead (sorry!). Adrian is a poor heartbroken mess. Hermione's been captured. And Draco's on the brink of losing it.

Tag line? War. Sucks. Bigtime.

Thanks for reading guys. Also, I posted a new story called "Happily Divorced" yesterday. Feel free to check it out if you're interested! :)

-WP


	27. The Hallows

"Alright, Draco. You're a twisted little bastard, so _please_ tell me you've got a plan going."

Normally Draco would've pitched a fit at such a shot at his character, but he honestly didn't have it in him. His pitiful sobbing had left him slumped and sleeping against his bedroom door until he was awoken that evening by having Adrian roughly push himself against it so he could get inside. Before they talked about anything Adrian helped put Draco's room back together. Draco had been so out of sorts that he hadn't realized that it was still in disarray from Hermione's hallucinatory outburst. Together they had gone down to dinner and was met with a full house. Aside from Blaise and Goyle, Pansy and Tracey Davis had returned. Daphne was also there, wearing a sorrowful disposition that marred her usually beautiful features. Her sister had gone "missing" during that morning's escapade in London and no one seemed particularly keen in looking for her.

For the first time in a long time (or ever, really) there was nothing to do. Voldemort had what he wanted –Hermione. And he was using her to find what he wanted most. Draco assumed that once she had done her task his evil overlord would go back to his search for the resistance. Only then it would be less frantic. There would be no reason to worry. Why? Because he'd be the master of death and _that_ ensured victory.

"Draco? _Draco?_ "

"I've got nothing." He said after snapping himself back to reality. Draco turned to Adrian and shrugged helplessly. "We're facing a werewolf without a wand here, Adrian."

"Are you kidding me?" Adrian asked incredulously. "Are you _kidding_ me?! So, what, you're just going to let Hermione rot away in a dungeon?"

"No!"

"Well that's what it sounds like!"

"What do you want me to say?!" Draco yelled at him. He grunted and tugged on his hair before letting his hands fall to his lap. "Granger's only been gone for a few hours and all I can think about are the horrible things the Dark Lord and other Deatheaters are doing to her –what they _will_ do to her the longer she stays. It doesn't take a genius to know that he wanted her because of something to do with the Hallows, and now that he has her do you think he'll leave the Manor? No! He's going to stay there making it damn near impossible for me to get to her!"

"There are secret passages in and out of Malfoy Manor aren't there?"

"You sound like Granger." Draco sneered. "Yes, there are. And who do you think the Dark Lord will point his wand at when he realizes she's gone? _Me._ He'll carve into me like a bloody pumpkin. But of course, we're jumping ahead of ourselves and forgetting who we're talking about here. It's _Granger_. The effing bleeding heart she is probably won't even want to leave. Too scared that I'll be tortured to death or-"

"Then go."

Draco stopped his ranting abruptly. "What?"

"Go." Adrian repeated. "Leave. _Flee._ When, not if, you get Granger out, go with her."

"I… No." He shook his head. "I can't leave you here with these people."

Adrian chuckled. "You sound like a Gryffindor."

Draco snarled some at that, but Adrian continued.

"You have to leave, mate. If that's what it takes to get Granger out of this hell-hole then you've got to do it."

"But you-"

"I'm staying here." Adrian said with finality. "With...Fiona gone and you leaving, the resistance needs someone on the inside. No one suspects me of being a traitor –not to mention that I know Occlumency and I know it _well_."

Draco wanted to fight him on this, but Adrian was a persistent and equally stubborn man. The blond sighed and nodded. "I'll have to lie to Granger and tell her that you're coming too."

Adrian smirked. "Lying, yes… That'll go over well with her."

Draco thought about the night when he had slipped her the Sleeping Draught Potion. Yes, being sneaky and underhanded with her did have its consequences. A smile came to his lips as he thought of her, but then it quickly disappeared when he thought of something else.

"The Dark Lord will have room for a new favorite."

Adrian's face paled. "Merlin, I hope you don't want me to-?"

"No, no, of course not. At this rate it'll be Blaise, and I need you to be _his_ favorite. It's the only way you'll be able to get insider information if I'm not here."

In addition to his change in pallor, Adrian's face shattered. "How...how can you ask me to do that? Draco, if I go anywhere near him he's a dead man."

"I know and I'm sorry." Draco frowned. "I want him to pay for what he did to Fiona just as badly as you do, but we need him. The faster we use him-"

"The sooner I can kill him."

Draco nodded. "He'll be all yours."

"Fine." Adrian agreed. "So, we've got my job down and we know where you're going at the end of all of this. Still though, how are we going to get Hermione out?"

Draco sighed as he rubbed his hands over his face. That was the big question, wasn't it?

* * *

 _So_ _the myth goes, the Deathly Hallows were all created by one being: Death. Imbued with magic from the dark reaper, it is thought by some that each of the Hallows –the Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Invisibility Cloak –were connected to each other in some way. That said, it may be possible for the holder of one Hallow to find the others._

The book Hermione had been reading had _not,_ however, told her how to go about finding the others. Just that it might be possible. With an aggravated sigh she mistreated the poor book and threw it against a pile that she had spent all day yesterday going through. When Voldemort had come down to her last night and asked for her progress he had been...unhappy, to say the least. Nott Senior's torture had been bad enough, but Voldemort's? It had knocked her unconscious and she didn't wake up until that morning. Despite the pain she had eaten the scraps a small, frail house elf gave her, and began reading again. She wanted to have a good report today (less for Voldemort's sake and more for personal triumph and her physical well-being), but still no luck. All of her reading so far said the same thing. It was all a bunch of he-said, she-said, and theories about whether or not the Hallows were real, what they did, and that they might be found.

"The Tale of the Three Brothers told me more about the Hallows than this rubbish." Hermione grumbled to herself, and then she glanced at the pile of books that she had yet to go through. She thought that the Dark Arts books that Voldemort had given her would have been of more help, but the authors were clueless.

And yet the author of a children's story was not. Perhaps that was the genius of it all? Why leave such destructive information out in the open for people to get their hands on? Why not hide it – _disguise it_ –in a way that no one would truly know what it was?

Hermione sighed and began reading yet again. She ran through tales of magical tree stumps, fables of foxes that wanted to fly, and stories of children getting lost in the muggle world never to return.

That last one had been absolutely morbid, and so she turned to another about a boy never wanting to grow old. Again morbid, if she really thought about it, but then her brain caught onto something the more she read.

 _Little Percy walked up to the stranger and said, "My daddy gave me this blanket, and you took him away. I'll give you this back, if he comes and stay."_

 _The stranger laughed and said, "Not so. When I come, people go."_

 _Little Percy cried, "What shall I do?"_

" _If you do something for me, I'll do something for you. You give me that blanket in exchange for a stone, and I'll make sure that you're never alone."_

 _Little Percy smiled and said yes right away. Anything to make his daddy come and stay. With stone in hand, he turned it thrice, but not before the stranger gave him some advice._

" _Everything you do comes at price. In the end this won't suffice. You'll see me again, that much is sure. Too tired, too sad, in life to endure."_

Hermione closed the book, her finger inside to mark the page as her thoughts ran wild. The stranger was Death for certain. The boy had called what he had a blanket, but it wasn't. It had to be the invisibility cloak. And he had traded it for the Resurrection Stone.

" _My daddy gave me this blanket."_

Didn't one of the brothers give their son the invisibility cloak? Yes, he did. And his son wanted his father back and so he sought Death out. This story was a continuation of _The Tale of The Three Brothers_ and judging by how it ended, there had to be another one. With a renewed vigor Hermione dug deep into the children's books that surrounded her. There were tons of them –definitely too many to get through all in one day, but damn it she was determined to set a speed record.

* * *

Andy was tending to the pub patrons as usual. Georgie was sitting at his table like always, drinking a potion-laden alcoholic brew so he gained only a quarter of the effects he normally would if he was a true drunk. It was the only way he could throw back so many a day.

Although both men looked at ease on the outside, but they were anxious as hell. Deatheaters hadn't patrolled since Thursday. It was Saturday night and not a _single_ Deatheater had gone around the city as they had been doing the moment they had set up shop at Edinburgh Castle.

Something was wrong.

The ally members were waiting for Fiona or Draco –even that new guy, Adrian –to come to the pub to ease their worries, but the fact that none of them nor any Deatheaters had come for their customary drink had only added to it. They both feared that tonight would hold an unsettling conversation with the Order, and suddenly Georgie wished he was drinking the real stuff.

As Georgie drank his third fake shot of the night, he watched as Andy cleaned down the counter. The barkeep paused in his actions, eyes slightly widened, and a curse word slowly spilling from his lips.

"Shi-"

Georgie turned, expecting the worst. And yes, his panic did rise to epic proportions, but not because they had been found out.

Gavin had walked into the pub, eyeing his fellow allies and trying to muster the faux hate he always gave them, but it was lacking. He walked right up to the counter and said to Andy, "Firewhiskey,"

Andy was still frozen solid. Georgie understood why. Gavin wasn't supposed to be here. His head was on the chopping block and he was supposed to be hiding out in Dalry. But now he was here, and not in any way in disguise. This was suicide!

" _Firewhiskey_ ," Gavin said again. Andy came to and robotically reached for a glass, but he was stopped. "Just give me the bottle."

Andy sputtered. " _The bottle?_ "

"Don't make me repeat myself!" He snapped. "Just give me the bloody bottle!"

Andy complied. He and Georgie both stared at him with worry as he put the bottle to his lips and drank the firewhiskey as though it was water. Georgie caught Andy's gaze before getting up and headed towards the bathrooms, thus making his way down to the hidey-hole. While there he paced, glancing back at the entrance and listening for footsteps that he knew –that he _hoped_ –would be meeting him down there.

Eventually they did –albeit somewhat wobbly, and Gavin plopped himself on the nearest bed with his head in his hands.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Georgie scolded him. "What if you were seen?! A Deatheater could've killed you!"

Gavin suddenly looked up and Georgie nearly tutted. The man was an utter lightweight despite his size. "You don't know, do you?"

Georgie's face drained. "Don't know what?"

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised." Gavin hiccupped. "There's no one on the inside to clue us in anymore. Maybe that Adrian guy, but if he hasn't shown up yet then I doubt it. As for Malfoy, I'm going to murder him. If I don't the Order will!"

"Gavin," Georgie said sternly. "What's happened?"

"I knew something was wrong when Dorea told me that the Deatheaters who were eating breakfast in her pub just got up and left." He continued as though Georgie hadn't said anything. "They were hardly finished eating but they just… _left_. This morning I found out why." Gavin looked up at Georgie and sighed solemnly. "Hermione's been captured. She's at Malfoy Manor now."

Georgie nearly stumbled back. Instead he slowly lowered himself to the floor with his mouth hanging open. "She's… _she's been what?_ "

Gavin nodded and wished he had grabbed another bottle of firewhiskey before going down to their hideout. "I never left Dorea's basement –keeping a low profile, you know? But Dorea's got the best damn ears in the business and that's what she heard a couple Snatchers saying. Hermione was captured in London."

"London?" Georgie tilted his head some. "What was she doing in London?"

"No idea," he shrugged. "That's what I've been trying to figure out. But Georgie, that's not the worst news."

Georgie gulped. "…What is it?"

"Fiona's dead."

Had Georgie not already been on the ground he would've fallen. Fiona? _Their_ Fiona? Dead? Georgie couldn't hold back his tears. "How?"

"She was found out as a traitor." Gavin explained. "And she was killed for it."

"What about Malfoy? Is he-?"

"Who do you think did it?" He snarled. Georgie blinked in surprise.

"No," he shook his head. "Malfoy wouldn't-"

"Oh yes he would. He's the one who bound Hermione and took her to You-Know-Who after all –and _that_ little tidbit I overheard myself. I told you I didn't trust him."

Georgie sat there in disbelief. No. Draco couldn't have done that. He wouldn't! The blond's memories aside, his actions up to this point proved that he was one of the good guys. There was no way he would kill Fiona let alone take Hermione to that monster. And if what he had heard Angelina mention to her when they were here correctly, Georgie would bet that Draco liked her.

"I'm sorry, Gavin," Georgie shook his head. "But you're wrong. You heard wrong."

"Don't tell me what I did or didn't hear!" Gavin shouted at him as he stood. "Malfoy betrayed us! _If_ he was ever on our side at all!"

"Think about what you're saying, for Merlin's sake!" Georgie shouted back as he got up from the floor. "If all Malfoy wanted to do was turn Hermione over, why take her back to Edinburgh Castle when she got hurt? Why protect her at all? It doesn't make sense!"

"War _never_ makes sense! Forget the little details, Georgie, and focus on the fact that Hermione's a prisoner and that Fiona's dead!"

Georgie let his eyes fall to the floor as he fought back tears. He heard bed springs some seconds later and a sigh from across from him.

"We're screwed, Georgie." Gavin said after a moment's pause. "Malfoy has Fiona's portion of the mirror. He knows about our ally network. He's heard names and places. He knows how we manoeuver."

"I still think there's something that we're missing." Georgie rebutted. "I don't want to doubt you, but there's too much conflicting evidence."

"I'm up for tying Malfoy down and shoving Veritaserum down his throat if you are." He smiled.

Georgie resisted an inappropriate chuckle. "It'll be one a.m. in a few hours. We'll let Malfoy talk. Just _don't_ go spewing your accusations about him when we do."

Gavin huffed. "You'd better put a Lip-Locker Curse on me then."

Georgie let one of his brows rise as he flexed his hand. "Was that permission?"

"Don't even think about it." Gavin scowled while Georgie merely smirked.

"As you wish,"

* * *

Hermione's eyes were tired. Her fingers were scarred with papercuts. A headache had brewed hours ago, but she fought through it because she had wanted to stay on the trail she'd found. That trail had led her to two more stories –one about a man and his "Cloak of Protection" and another about a stone that repelled Death. There were more stories out there, she knew, but what she had deduced so far was still valuable information.

Having the Hallows protected you from magic.

This wasn't completely new to her. Harry's invisibility cloak was immune from being summoned unlike other cloaks. On more than one occasion spells that had come in contact with it either missed completely or ricocheted off. What she'd found out about the Resurrection Stone, however, was something that she couldn't have guessed. The stone "raised" the dead –that much was obvious. But when held or merely kept on one's person, Death couldn't take you. It was like an instant resurrection. The only reason one of the brothers from the original story was taken was because he had killed himself.

There hadn't been any stories about the Elder Wand, but what more was there needed to know? Voldemort wielded it. Dumbledore had had it before him. The wand itself was powerful and when matched with a wizard equally so and it was scary. Yes, each Hallow was proven to be very good in keeping the user alive, and now Hermione understood how a person could become a master of death. It simply made a person harder to kill.

What she _still_ didn't understand, however, was how to track them. That's what Voldemort wanted –not that Hermione wanted to comply with his request. It was just that Neville and Luna had had the invisibility cloak last. If she could find a way to get to them, they could be led back to the Order where they belonged.

If they were still alive, that is.

Hermione groaned to herself and shortly after that she stiffened. She couldn't understand how someone could descend stairs so silently. It was like he was there yet not and it unnerved her. She swallowed quickly before Voldemort made it to her cell and took up a book in the process to make it look like she was still working.

Voldemort stared down at her with an unreadable face. "Your progress?"

 _Don't show fear. Don't show fear. Imperiused people don't have emotion…_

"I haven't made much progress in finding –AH!"

Hermione screamed. She fell back amongst the books as she felt searing pain rip through her body. After what felt like minutes the Cruciatus Curse lifted, and she continued to lay half on the ground, half on sharp book edges, and breathed shallowly as residual spasms ran through her. She was so lost in her own little world that she hadn't noticed that her cell door had opened.

"I have heard of your intelligence, mudblood." Voldemort said softly. It bordered the line of soothing, but never in a million years would Hermione ever put a characteristic of his in a positive category. "And that is the only reason you are alive. _However_ ," he said as he kneeled down to her. "I am not known for my patience."

Hermione grunted as Voldemort's hand clasped her face. His long fingers cradled her right cheek, his thumb oddly caressing her left, and she could see his hideous nails from her periphery. They were dark and grotesque, and it made her stomach turn viciously as though she would vomit at any moment.

"You have until tomorrow night to tell me something of use." He told her. "If not, you will long for the moments when I used the Cruciatus Curse on you."

For good measure the man-turned-creature sunk the tip of his thumb nail into her cheek. Hermione whimpered, but didn't cry, when she felt it pierce her skin. He let his thumb slowly glide down her face, her flesh opening up as he went, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

Voldemort roughly pushed her away when he had reached the end of her face, stood, and exited the cell. She only knew that he was gone when the dungeon door slammed shut. Even then Hermione was paralyzed. She continued to shake where she lay, afraid to make a noise –not even a silent cry as she feared that if her tears hit the floor it would sound like a roaring waterfall.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well, there goes more info on the Hallows. And Draco's going to get Hermione out! Although, it may be a bit…difficult? Merlin help him.

-WP


	28. Scarred

**Author's note #1:** So, I rarely ever place author's notes in the beginning, but I felt the need seeing as this chapter is a bit (okay, a lot) intense towards the end in terms of torture. Just a friendly warning!

* * *

Draco and Adrian sat on the floor of Draco's bedroom with everything resistance-related in front of them. The mirror. Hermione's (Theo's) wand and her coin from the Order. Fiona's coin. Draco had his own coin in his pocket, and there was some odd comfort within him knowing that his coin had once belonged to the woman that he cared about.

"We should get the mirror ready." Adrian said as he gestured to the time. Draco nodded and picked it up in his hand, using his wand in the other to get the mirror going. The moment faces filled it he immediately realized that something was amiss.

"Gavin?" Draco said with a tilted head. "Are you with Georgie?"

Gavin was snarling as he stood beside his fellow ally and Draco cocked a brow to Adrian who merely shrugged.

"Gavin, you're supposed to be in Gorige." Ginny chided. "What are you doing back in Newington?"

"I came when I found out the news." He said evenly, his eyes never once leaving Draco. Adrian scrunched his brows together.

"You know? How did you find out?"

"Dorea overheard the right conversations from the right people. And _you_ , Malfoy, I'm going to-"

Georgie elbowed him in the ribs while Ginny looked back and forth between her allies with a confused expression.

"What on earth is going on? Gavin, what news?"

"That Fiona's dead and Hermione was captured in London."

Ginny's mouth dropped open as tears filled her eyes. "What? How? I…I don't understand. Malfoy, what the hell happened?!"

"It wasn't my fault." Draco defended. He let Adrian hold the mirror as he ran his hands through his hair. "Everything just got out of hand."

"Out of hand my arse!" Gavin accused. "You killed Fiona and then you let your friends take Hermione!"

Ginny gasped while Adrian immediately went to Draco's aid. "He didn't kill Fiona. Blaise did. I found him over her body while we were in London."

"Oh, Adrian," Ginny frowned as she wiped tears from her eyes. "I'm so-"

"And what about Hermione, huh?" Gavin continued. "Are you going to say that someone else bound her while a horde of Deatheaters watched?"

Draco grew silent. Ginny had her eyes on him, waiting for an answer, but when none came her skin flushed red.

"You betrayed us."

"Hermione betrayed herself." Draco replied. "I woke up Friday morning and she was just…gone. She went to London to get captured."

"She took _herself_ to London? Ha," Ginny scoffed. "What did she do, Malfoy, hop on a broom? You're not telling us everything."

"Because you won't shut up and let me explain." He snapped at her before turning his attention to Gavin. " _Especially_ you. You really shouldn't go on about something you know nothing about. _You_ weren't in London. Neither of you. _You_ didn't have to deal with a stubborn witch who has a bloody hero complex, stole your apparating coin, and ran off _on her own_. _You_ didn't have to track her down while still playing the role of Deatheater. _You_ didn't have to watch your ally, your friend, go off with a man who you _knew_ was dangerous and would most likely kill her –which he did. _You_ didn't have to bind Hermione's hands and feet like Gavin said because there was no way out without getting both yourself and her killed. _You_ weren't forced by the Dark Lord to Imperius her or to have to watch Deatheaters take her away. And _you_ haven't been plagued with thoughts of what they might be doing to her knowing full-well there's nothing you can do to help.

'So, unless either of you can switch places with me in that long-winded story, don't you dare look at me like I'm the bad guy. If I was a threat, you'd all be dead already –twice, three times over even. If you can't tell the difference between a friend and foe by now then it's no wonder you lot are bloody losing."

Both Ginny and Gavin were silenced during Draco's rant. Adrian placed a friendly hand on his shoulder to calm him down. When no one said anything for at least a full minute, Georgie cleared his throat and took the reins.

"Who was Hermione trying to protect that she had a 'hero complex?'"

"Us," Adrian said as he pointed to himself and Draco. "And Fiona. We told her that the Dark Lord wanted her and that there were search parities after her. She thought that the longer she stayed gone, the more impatient the Dark Lord would be. That he'd want to kill us for not finding her. She didn't want any of us to get hurt, so she left."

"A stupid, rash, and _horrible_ idea." Draco brooded.

"Agreed," Ginny said softly. "But that's also who she is. Someone who sacrifices for the people she cares about." Draco huffed as Adrian sighed.

"There's something else. The four of us were talking and we came to the conclusion that Fiona and Draco's allegiance to the resistance was known to the Dark Lord. Since Fiona's dead, we can only assume that it's true."

"Or half true," Draco added. "If it is, I should be dead by now. If it's not, there's only a matter of time before he finds out."

"Which means that Draco needs to get out of here." Adrian said to their allies. "It's not safe for him anymore. Not to mention when we get Hermione out, she might not want to leave without him."

Gavin snorted. "She left him the first time. What makes now so different? Just because he might die?"

"Gavin!" Georgie scolded.

"Gavin, we don't wish death on anyone." Ginny piled on although she still seemed tense when she looked in Draco's direction. "Malfoy, are you sure Hermione won't come without you?"

"What's the matter, Weasley?" Draco questioned with a somewhat hot tone. He wasn't angry, per se, but still a nerve had been touched. "Don't want me at your base?"

"It's not like that." She shook her head. "You-Know-Who will already be angry once Hermione's gone –even more so if you've gone too. It'll make him out for blood even more than usual and I'm just trying to limit the danger."

"If you say so," he huffed. "But trust me when I say that Granger won't go anywhere without me."

Ginny gave Draco a curious gaze. "And you're so sure because…?"

A vivid memory of Hermione under him, her hands in his hair, and a deep kiss with dancing tongues flashed across his vision.

"You said it yourself." Draco shrugged. "She sacrifices for the people she cares about."

Ginny continued to give him a questioning stare while Georgie gave him a disturbingly knowing one. Draco coughed once before turning onto different matters. "I don't know how long she'll stay alive, but I need to get her out as soon as possible."

"Do you have any idea how?" Georgie asked.

"One, and it's suicide."

Gavin snorted some. "Worse than a sixty-forty shot?"

"Twenty-eighty," Draco replied with a straight face and Gavin dropped all of his malice at once.

"Malfoy, what do you plan to do?"

Draco sighed, exchanged one look with Adrian and answered, "Sneak into a place crawling with Deatheaters and hope to Merlin that no one catches me going in or Granger and I coming out."

"The hell?" Gavin swore with wide eyes. "Malfoy, that's not a plan… That's not a plan at all!"

"I never said it was a plan. I said it was a suicidal idea."

"Malfoy, you can't." Ginny told him with a shake of her head. "There has to be another way-"

"There _is_ no other way. She's going to die otherwise."

"With this plan of yours she may die anyway."

Draco shrugged. "Then there's nothing to lose, is there?"

"But-?"

"Did you all get in contact with Ace?"

Ginny wanted to fight with him more but she refrained. Instead she sighed and nodded. "Yes. That's what I wanted to talk to you all about tonight. Ace can set up a portkey in Merchiston –was planning on getting it ready for midnight tomorrow, but in light of the circumstances…"

"That's fine." Draco nodded. "Tell him to get it ready."

Adrian rounded on him quickly. "Draco, are you mad?"

He shifted uneasily at the term.

"All you have is a crazy plan-"

 _There goes that term again-_

"-that may or may not work. You need more time to figure this out."

"I agree." Draco nodded. "But I can't afford that luxury and neither can Granger." He turned to Ginny and urged her on. "Tell Ace to have it ready."

"Malfoy-"

"Don't make me say it again, Weasley." He threatened. "Have it ready."

* * *

Hermione had gone through everything. Twice. She considered doing it a third time, but she knew that she would end up with the same result. Nothing here could tell her how to track the Hallows and she dreaded having Voldemort coming back down to see her sometime late in the night as per usual. Although she didn't have a strict sense of time, she knew that it was early morning, and so she had a couple of hours to think of what she could do to delay what was sure to be a gruesome punishment.

But could she?

And what about her death?

Being here let her know that both were inevitable, and her thoughts suddenly went to Draco. There were very few times that his vulnerability showed, and although it may have been unnoticeable to most, those rare moments were seared into her memory. They were so well-lodged because she wasn't sure when or if she'd ever see them again. And that Friday morning when he had bound her, had to Imperius her and watch her being taken away… It had hurt him.

She inappropriately laughed at that. Draco Malfoy. Hurt. Over _her_. Sure they had had a few intimate moments and then one big one. And sure, perhaps he did care about her. But never in a million years would she have imagined that that care would have led to such inner turmoil at her predicament.

"He probably just cares because he's one step closer to being found out as a traitor."

Hermione turned to the new voice in the room and sighed. She was tired of him haunting her, but she was in no mood to fight him off today.

"You shouldn't say such things about him." She scolded. "He's been there for me at every turn."

"So have I."

She nodded. "In my mind you have, yes. But that's not going to help me stay alive long enough get the information I need."

"And Malfoy will?" Ron asked with scoff. "Then where is he? It's Sunday and there hasn't been so much as a blond whisker from him."

"I never expected there would be." Hermione replied honestly. "I did this to keep him safe. For him to come and rescue me would make everything I've done for nothing."

"Your death would make everything _he_ did for nothing too."

Hermione looked up at Ron with a bemused grin. "Are you giving Draco some credit?"

"Hardly," he snorted. "Just pointing out the obvious. It's just…no one wins from this situation, Hermione."

"My work on the Hallows is all the victory we need." She said with assurance. "What I've found out is useful enough, but I wish I had found out more. With no direct way to find the Hallows, we're still at square one. I could give a rat's arse about how You-Know-Who will take it, but I'm not ready to die yet."

"Then lie."

"What?"

"When he comes again, lie and say that you're on to something."

Hermione looked like a stag caught in the line of a wand's lit end. "You're joking. The moment he finds out I lied I'm a dead woman."

"But until he does, you'll have your time."

Hermione bit her bottom lip. Gnawed on it was more like it. She supposed she could. George had done it, so Draco had explained. He got an extra day. _One day._ Assuming that she herself got that reprieve, how would she pass on the information that could possibly help the Order? She took a deep breath and reached for a book. Flipping to the back of it where there were mostly blank pages, she ripped out one, much to Ron's surprise.

"You're destroying a _book_?"

"It's only one page." She said before glancing up at him. "Besides, I needed paper."

Ron was intrigued. "For what?"

"Something for Draco to find. Hopefully," Hermione said as she looked behind her. The stone wall of her cell was flat for the most part, but if she looked closely enough she could spot a few jagged edges sharp enough to pierce her skin.

She had no ink, but her blood would suffice. However, before she could prick one of her fingers, the dungeon door up ahead opened. Hermione sat frozen. It was too early for Voldemort to be here. The man wasn't very predictable in much, but in some things he was. His visits to see her were one of them.

Hermione quickly realized that it wasn't him, though, by his louder, purposeful steps. They still sounded graceful though –that of an aristocratic style. There were few Deatheaters that fit that profile, and she narrowed her eyes once her visitor had come to view.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Have you found anything useful?" Blaise asked, refusing to answer her question. Hermione furrowed her brow, eyeing the wizard harshly through the bars.

"You know what You-Know-Who has me doing in here?"

Blaise scowled. "Answer the bloody question!"

Hermione jumped at his tone, then she cursed when she saw the sadistic smirk he donned at seeing her do it. She swallowed. "I haven't…exactly." She lied. "I'm on to something though."

Blaise tutted. "Not good enough," he said as he used his wand to unlock her cell. Hermione hastily rose to her feet.

"Only You-Know-Who comes in here."

"And you prefer him to me?" He chuckled as he entered, closing and locking the door behind him. "I don't know whether to find that as an insult or a compliment."

"You're all vile to me." Hermione bravely spat at him. "But not once has anyone come here aside from him."

"True," Blaise nodded. "But the Dark Lord has grown tired of you. Little patience and all that. He gave me the task of speaking with you this morning. Not to mention giving me a little…initiation."

Hermione took an instinctual step back. "Initiation?"

"That's right. I'm here to torture you, Granger –whether you had information for the Dark Lord or not."

Hermione gulped. "If anyone should be torturing me, it should be Draco, not you. All you did was kill one of your own. Draco gave your evil master what he wanted."

" _Draco,_ " Blaise mimicked, seemingly to relish the brunette's use of his friend's first name, "is just as much a traitor as Fiona was."

Her heart plummeted.

"And the Dark Lord knows it."

Her heart sank further.

"Then why isn't he dead?"

"Oh, he will be. But not before he's suffered. And you, Granger," he said as he came closer, "are the reason that he will."

Hermione took another step back and hit the wall. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Well, you'll need to strip for starters."

"I'll do no such thing! I wasn't Imperiused to follow _your_ orders. You'll simply have to kill me."

Blaise chuckled. He even crossed his arms as pure amusement washed over his features. "You weren't Imperiused at all. Or at the very least not well."

Hermione tried not to let her face fall. Damn it. She was too expressive with him. She should've been stoic. She should've been calm. But how the hell could she be any of that with _him_ standing in front of her? Fiona's murderer…

"I know Draco." Blaise continued. "I know his methods and his skills. Perhaps not as well as I thought considering that he managed to keep you under wraps all this time, but I know his magic. His technique had been sloppy, and had the Dark Lord not been so focused on the emotional torment bubbling under Draco's face, he would've noticed his wand. This, Granger," he said as he uncrossed his arms and pointed his wand at her. " _This_ is what the Imperius Curse really feels like."

The curse hit Hermione hard and fast. Instead of the cool and light feeling she had felt with Draco's casting, this one had hurt. She felt like something was literally _sucking_ her freedom from her and when it was over she felt empty. Hollow. Despite the dire situation, she selflessly thought about Ron and figured that this is what he must've felt like. A shell of his former self. For two years. Hermione had only felt like this for a few seconds and already it was weighing on her. She wanted to feel a resurgence of hatred towards Draco for what he'd done to Ron, but nothing happened. She was only able to see through cloudy eyes as Blaise came to stand directly in front of her.

"Strip down to your knickers, Granger."

There was no racing of Hermione's heart. With a calm face she began to do as he asked. His expression would have made her sneer under normal circumstances, but she didn't. She slipped off her shirt, leaving her bare chest out in the open. Blaise smiled at that. Her denims came next, but at least she was wearing underwear.

Blaise reached out with his left hand and cupped her face. It slid down slowly, pausing on her neck, then moving again, stopping on one of her breasts. Hermione wanted to cringe. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to _hurt_ him. A thick swallow never came as his thumb brushed across it and he gave a soft, "Hm."

"Draco did this to you, didn't he?" Blaise asked, referring to a bruise that lay on it. When she didn't reply he raised his eyes to her. "Answer me."

"Yes."

"I figured. I often had his seconds –a day, sometimes mere hours after him. I recognize his work. His… _signature._ Mine is much better, though."

Hermione willed herself to scream out as Blaise's mouth attacked Draco's "signature." Nothing escaped her lips, however. Her body was as compliant as he'd wanted it to be and it killed her. She tried to kick in her Occlumency as his teeth and tongue grazed her, his other hand caressed her, but it didn't work. Her skills were good enough to keep an intruder out of her mind, but they weren't good enough to work in other respects. Imperius Curses were one of them. Veritaserum was another.

And so she had to stand there, her insides trembling as Blaise's mouth was on one breast while his wand hand was groping the other. When he finally stopped his lips were by her ear and he whispered, "Don't worry. I won't take advantage of you. Any further, at least." He pulled his head back and stared into her emotionless eyes. "Draco needs something that he can see, or so the Dark Lord says."

Blaise raised his wand and touched the tip just below her collarbone. With a cruel smile he said, "You're allowed to scream."

He moved his wand down at a snail's pace and Hermione did exactly as he said. It wasn't because he had ordered her to, for she was sure that, Imperiused or not, her voice would be unable to be suppressed by the curse. Blaise's wand was cutting her open. It was deep, she could feel, but not so much that she would bleed to death. His wand had reached to the start of her breast and then it stopped. He lifted it up and then leaned it on her stomach.

The process continued.

Hermione screamed again and continued to do so as he kept going. Cutting lines into her on various parts of her body –long ones, short ones, straight ones, curvy, zig-zag… They were everywhere and soon she could no longer stand. She slid down to the floor and Blaise watched as she did so. She was so caught up in what had just happened that she didn't even realize that he had lifted the Imperius Curse from her.

"Draco is so naïve." Blaise commented as he stared down at her. "Had he simply killed you none of this would be happening."

He turned to leave, but then stopped and said once last thing. "I'm not sure how you would manage it, but knowing you I'm sure it's possible, so let's get something understood. If you do happen to find out what the Dark Lord wants and you tell Draco, I'll kill him. If you try to orchestrate some kind of escape, I'll kill him. To put it simply, if you do _anything_ out of line, _I'll_ _ **kill**_ _him_."

With that he left. Hermione continued to lay on the floor of the cell, only in her underwear, and bleeding from every part of her.

It was in that position that she cried.

And it was in that position that Polly found her when he apparated into the cell. His mouth fell open when he caught sight of her and he quickly dashed around, picking up her discarded clothing and placing them near her head.

"How can Polly help Mistress Granger?"

Hermione stopped her tears immediately and gazed at the little creature in disbelief. "P-Polly?"

Polly nodded. "How can Polly help?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Master Malfoy gave you full command over Polly." He answered. "I sensed your distress and came to help."

Hermione blinked. She slowly sat up and jetted her eyes towards her surroundings. "You can apparate in and out of here?"

"Yes, Mistress Granger." Polly nodded enthusiastically. Hermione was still in shock, but should she be? Didn't Dobby once come to the rescue in this similar manner? She supposed she thought the apparation wards would've been altered to prevent something like that again, but looking at Polly now, clearly she was wrong. "Come. Get dressed. Polly will take you-"

"No." Hermione shook her head violently. She huddled her knees up to her chest and kept shaking her head. "I can't leave."

"But…but why?"

"Draco will die if I leave."

Polly frowned. He was scared for his Mistress and he took a tentative step towards her. "But Mistress Granger-"

"I forbid you from taking me from here, Polly." Hermione said sternly. Polly snapped his mouth shut and bowed his head solemnly.

"Yes, Mistress Granger. Is…is there anything else Polly can do for his Mistress?"

Hermione swallowed. Yes, there was. She wanted Polly to warn Draco. To tell him that Voldemort knew he was a traitor and that he was marked for death. To continue with her original idea of writing what she knew of the Hallows and giving it to Polly to give to him. She didn't need to prick her finger anymore. There was more than enough blood flowing from her now…

However, according to Blaise, Draco's death would be coming early if she said anything. She sighed, fresh tears prickling her eyes.

"Tell Draco that…" She took a deep breath and slid her hands up her arms protectively. "Tell him that I'm okay and…not to worry."

"Yes, Mistress Granger."

Polly left. As for Hermione, she leaned her head back against the cell wall and resumed her crying with closed eyes.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I'm thinking of one person right now who loves Blaise as a character (and all her Slytherin boys ;) and is probably throwing imaginary daggers at me at the moment lol (Sorry!). Something will happen that'll partially make up for it.

The next few chapters are drama to say the least. Buckle up ;)

-WP


	29. For the Best

Adrian sat on his bed as he watched Draco wear out his floor with his pacing. The blond was going at his nails like he hadn't eaten in days and his face seemed permanently fixed in a creased sense of thought.

Adrian sighed.

"You're going to walk through the floor if you keep that up."

"Bite me." Draco scowled.

 _Could've been worse…_ Adrian said as his eyes mimicked his friend's movements. He wondered if he had looked this crazed after finding out that Fiona was dead. Now, it's not like he wasn't still bubbling with rage, but until he had no choice he kept his distance from Blaise. It helped. There was no telling what would happen if they were alone together. Death, yes, but the methods? There were too many to contemplate.

"It might not be as bad as you think." Adrian said. Draco nearly growled at him like a feral animal.

"It's _always_ as bad as I think. Blaise has a routine. The only reason he would detour away from it was if he was plotting. Or worse, called away by the Dark Lord."

The thought made Draco sick. That morning at breakfast Blaise wasn't there. Out of anyone he cherished food like it was a lover, and for him not to be there? It _had_ to have been Voldemort-related. Draco's twisted imagination thought of his friend –well, _ex_ -friend now –being charged with Hermione's imprisonment. He would be a monstrous jail-keeper, and the brunette would suffer at his hands –mentally, emotionally, _physically_ …

Draco wanted to vomit.

"I'll talk to him tonight."

Draco shook his head. "You haven't gained his trust to get that close to him yet."

"Liquor makes even a thief look trustworthy." Adrian smiled. Draco followed suit and inclined his head in gratitude.

"I know how hard that will be for you."

"I'll manage." Adrian shrugged. "Besides, if he gets drunk enough he won't remember what I do to him anyway. And if he does, that's what Memory Charms are for."

"They are." Draco grinned wickedly before heading for the bedroom door, making sure to add a "Have fun" to Adrian before leaving.

He took his time back to his suite. The moment he returned there would be some planning going down. No matter what had to be done, he was _going_ to get Hermione out of Malfoy Manor tonight. Ginny had promised that the portkey would be ready in one of the kitchen cupboards of an abandoned house on Dorset Place in Merchiston. House number 2. Unlike normal portkeys, it could be activated by a spell. At least this way they wouldn't be screwed if they somehow (and most likely) missed its appointed time if it had one. They would still have to get there within two days though. After that it would disintegrate into nothing.

When Draco finally made it to his bedroom his lips curled up in a snarl. Pansy was there, standing outside his bedroom door. In all honesty he did try to pull his lips back into, at the very least, a grim smile. He _did_ throw Pansy under the Knight Bus after the vanishing cabinet incident after all. She had been recovering for the past two weeks. Voldemort's torture of her had been...gruesome, to put it mildly.

"Your door is locked."

Draco couldn't stifle himself. "Well spotted."

Pansy huffed. "You could _try_ not to be an arse, Draco. You owe me that much."

He sighed and nodded, the strange feeling of guilt overcoming him as he placed his hand on the doorknob and opened the door. "I'm sorry about your punishment." He said, grimaced, and then added, "But not about turning you over. You did a stupid thing that night."

"I'd rather not think about that night, thanks." Pansy muttered as she followed Draco inside.

Had Draco been thinking properly he wouldn't have let her come past his doorway. But in all honesty he was tired. He was stressed to the brim and just about anything could get past him at this point –or rile him up.

Right now it was the latter.

Draco had sat down on the edge of his bed and let out an exhausted groan as he put his head in his hands. Despite the lovely carpet, he didn't miss the sound of Pansy's footsteps. He couldn't ignore the dip in the bed nor the warm presence of another human being. And he _certainly_ couldn't have disregarded the one hand on his bicep and the other rubbing his back. Although used to the woman's touch by now, having had Hermione's body and, by consequence, her scent all over him just two days ago, any other's attention on him seemed…wrong. It made him feel like he was cheating in some way which was absolutely _absurd_. He wasn't tied down to any one witch, but his conscience was telling him otherwise.

"I'm tired, Pansy."

"Oh," she giggled girlishly as she snuggled closer to him. "I'm sure I can fix that."

"I'm serious." Draco said in a firm tone. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Hmm, well, I know it wasn't Daphne. She would still be upset about her sister and all, but after a night with you she would've at least smiled _a little_. So…Tracey? I mean, nothing's wrong with her but she's so… _Tracey_."

" _Pansy!_ " He yelled at her. He had yelled so hard that she had jumped back suddenly. "Will you just stop _talking_ and bloody groping me?! Just…get out!"

"Get out?" Pansy repeated as a frown adorned her face. "But… But I thought we could…? I wanted to-"

"I know what you wanted." Draco sneered at her as he stood. In the process he grabbed her arm roughly and yanked her up with him. "But listen to me good, Pansy. Not here. Not now. And, most likely, never again."

Pansy was absolutely flustered and tried gathering her words as Draco tugged her along and pushed her out of his bedroom. He could still hear her fuming beyond the door, but his attention was elsewhere when he slammed it shut. Another groan escaped his lips.

"Please, Giselle, I'm not in the mood."

Giselle tilted her head slightly and smiled. "When have I ever done what you've told me to do?"

Draco snorted. "Right. Of course. I attract nothing but stubborn witches. How could I forget?"

He rolled his eyes as he passed her and went back to his bed. Because he knew she wasn't real, it always surprised him how the bed would shift whenever she sat down. Just amazing how the mind worked.

"You have to admit that you were a bit rude to her."

"She was annoying the hell out of me."

"But still…"

"I think I deserve the right to snap at anyone I want considering the stress I'm under."

Giselle frowned, but nodded silently beside him. "Do you think you'll be able to get her out?"

"…I don't know, but I have to try." Draco answered solemnly. He waited for Giselle to say something else –words of encouragement he was sure she'd have, but anything that would've left her lips was interrupted by a loud _pop_ in the room. He stared down at the wide eyes of his house elf Polly.

"What are you doing here? I didn't call for you."

"Pardon my intrusion," Polly said as he bowed. "But Polly has a message for Master Malfoy from Mistress Granger."

Draco stiffened. "You… _you what?_ "

"Polly has a message for-"

"Yes, yes, I heard all of that." He hushed. "But… _how?_ "

"Polly went to her Master Malfoy. Polly felt her distress and I went to her."

"Distress…? She was…distressed?"

Polly nodded sadly. "Yes, Master Malfoy."

"And you," Draco said with a sense of renewed vigor. "You were able to apparate in without any problems?"

Polly nodded again, but this time happily. "Oh, yes Master Malfoy! There was no magic in place to keep me out."

"Well, I'll be a hippogriff's uncle… Polly, you need to go back. Go back right now and get her out of there. Bring her here."

"I'm sorry, Master Malfoy, but Polly can't do that."

Draco's face fell and morphed into an angry one. "Why the hell not? I'm _ordering_ you to-"

"Mistress Granger has forbidden Polly from taking her away from where she is."

Draco blinked rapidly. He couldn't have _possibly_ heard that correctly. Hermione had a way of escape and she didn't take it? What the hell was wrong with her?! He stood by what he'd said to Fiona on Friday morning. If Voldemort didn't kill her then he sure would.

In the meantime he let out a deep, long breath. "What was her message?"

"Mistress Granger wanted Polly to tell Master Malfoy that she's okay and not to worry."

With that Polly vanished and Draco stood frozen, staring at the spot that he had disappeared from. After a few passing seconds he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. Hermione had been in distress. She forbade Polly from saving her. She wanted him to believe that she was fine and that he shouldn't worry. On the contrary, all it did was let him know that she _wasn't_ okay and that he needed to worry.

He _had_ to get her out. Even if he died doing it.

* * *

Draco had provided the perfect outlet for Adrian to talk to Blaise: diving into his best liquor. After dinner he had led everyone to his study in order to devour bottles of Wilbur's Wicked Whiskey. Adrian watched from his periphery as Draco got Tracey drunk enough to pass out. Daphne had Goyle's attention. And that left Adrian alone with Blaise, drinking at Draco's desk. Blaise, who was more accustomed to the blond's company than his, had beckoned him over once he realized that his female drinking buddy had collapsed, but Draco declined.

"Just don't destroy anything." Draco had said, inclined his head to the pair and then left. Blaise huffed as he downed another shot. Adrian took his cue.

"He's acting a bit odd, don't you think?"

"You don't even know the half of it." Blaise said, another shot down the hatch. Adrian raised a brow.

"So there _is_ something to his behavior then?"

Blaise's eyes narrowed. "Why do you care?"

Adrian shrugged. "Too curious for my own good."

"Damn right you are. Now go away, Pucey."

"And leave all this liquor to you?" Adrian chuckled. "Not a chance. How often is the blond git so generous?"

"Never," Blaise mused. He swallowed a shot –possibly his fifth, maybe sixth. It usually took a while for liquor to catch up to him, and Adrian could tell from the creased forehead he was sporting as he gazed into the distance that he was slowly succumbing to it.

 _Perfect._

"He's never generous." The Italian continued. "He's a selfish prick who has an agenda with everything he does. By all rights I should follow his arse, but he's already well on his way to his own demise."

Adrian's face faltered some. He drank a shot of his own to cover it up and cleared his throat. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It _means_ Mr. Too Curious for Your Own Good, that Draco's a traitor, just like Fiona was."

"Is he now? How…interesting. And he's still breathing because…?"

"None of your business," Blaise snapped. "You're a little too low on the Deatheater pole to know such information."

"And you're not?" Adrian scoffed.

" _No,_ I'm not. And I'd watch your mouth if I was you. Draco, the _stupid_ arse that he is isn't too high on the Deatheater pole either –at least not anymore. The spot needs filling and it'd probably be best not to piss off the person who'll take it."

 _Draco was right._

"True," Adrian said distantly. He poured himself another shot but didn't drink it. From his periphery he could see Daphne and Goyle going at it. Thank Merlin there was a buzzing going on in his ears to distract himself from the _lip smacking_. And then there was Blaise, becoming ever more inebriated and it was absolutely delightful. He suddenly wondered just how much he could get away with right at this moment, and so, he tested the waters.

"I don't know about you, but I'm getting out of here before _that_ gets any crazier." Adrian said as he nodded towards the half-naked couple. He emptied the liquor bottle into the two glasses on the desk and shoved one towards Blaise. "One for the road unless you want to bear witness to a monstrosity."

Adrian drank his and stood up to leave. He didn't move too fast, though, giving Blaise just enough time to weigh his options, chug down his shot, and follow him out. Blaise walked ahead, and impressively enough he walked pretty well for someone who was drunk.

 _Well, that certainly won't do._

Adrian raised his hand and with a twist Blaise became unstable on his feet. If there was one thing he would thank Draco for, it was teaching him useful wandless magic in whatever spare time they had. Draco was still, obviously, much more advanced than him, but any spell to knock an enemy off his or her feet was extremely handy. And right now, Adrian was having a blast as he followed Blaise down the corridor and out another that would lead to the rest of the castle.

"You're a drunken mess." Adrian called from behind him.

"Piss off." Blaise called back. "Why are you even following me?"

"My room _is_ down this way, you know."

"You need a new room."

Adrian smirked although he couldn't see it. Another flex of his hand and this time Blaise went down. "Careful,"

Blaise was grumbling incoherently by now, and Adrian helped him up and half-carried him to his bedroom.

"Get off already!" Blaise fussed.

Adrian, all the smiles gone from him, nodded. "As you wish."

Adrian pushed Blaise away from him and the man fell to the floor, hitting his head on the board at the foot of the bed.

"Damn it!" Blaise shouted. Adrian stood over him.

"Sorry," he replied, clearly not sorry at all, and took out his wand. Blaise was still clearly drunk, but he sobered up some once he saw the piece of wood in his hands.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, it's nothing for you to worry about." Adrian smiled. He flicked his wand once and Blaise's legs stretched out on the floor, his arms as well but stuck against the bed. Another wave of his wand and the bedroom door was protected by Locking and Silencing Charms. "You're not going to remember it anyway. You might feel a bit sore, though."

* * *

It was nearly ten p.m. when Draco's bedroom door opened and Adrian popped in. The blond quirked a brow of his when he noticed a bit of blood on the man's collar.

"I take it things went well?"

Adrian nodded. "Very well. How are things here?"

"I'm done." Draco said, motioning to the packed rucksack that lay on his bed. "I've got clothes, things to eat so we don't starve, my knives, potions galore that I had Polly searching everywhere for-"

"The mirror too?"

Draco nodded. He and Adrian had split Fiona's mirror in half so that they could communicate more than just through the coins. They'd also asked Ginny how to register the one that was Fiona's for Adrian's personal use.

"I'm set." Draco continued. "All that's left is-"

"Getting Granger out of Malfoy Manor while the Dark Lord's still in it." Adrian finished. He sighed and took a deep breath. "Draco, I still think-"

"I'm not changing my mind."

"I know you won't. Just…just thought I'd say my bit. Stubborn git."

Draco smiled. He reached over to his rucksack and shrunk down so that it could fit into his pocket. When he was done he took a cursory glance around the room. His bedroom. A lavish suite that made his days as a Deatheater in Edinburgh mildly enjoyable. It was the only thing he'd miss from here. Except maybe Adrian. Not that he would _ever_ say such a thing out loud.

"Find out anything good from Blaise?"

"Confirmation that your death is imminent, so it's good that you're leaving." Adrian answered. "Also you were right. Blaise is right up there to take your spot as favorite."

"Then there's no doubt about it." Draco said. "You _have_ to stick close to him."

"Not a problem. I already let loose some of my hatred towards him." Adrian twirled his wand for good measure. "I think I can control myself to do what needs to be done."

"Good."

"When are you heading out?"

Draco glanced at the clock behind him. "Half an hour. If we get out quietly, we can monopolize the time to get to Merchiston without drawing attention to ourselves, wait out whatever spare time we have left until midnight and be out of there."

"And if you don't get out quietly?" Adrian asked. "I hate to be pessimistic here, but-"

"Then we've got two days to make it there. And you are _not_ to help me, do you hear me?" Draco warned. "I mean it, Pucey. Whether it's tonight or weeks from now out on a battlefield. You hex my arse, got it?"

"What about Hermione?"

Draco swallowed. "I have a feeling that after tonight the Dark Lord will care more about me than her. I have your word then, yes?"

Adrian heaved a deep breath. "Yeah,"

Draco nodded. "Alright then. I'll see you on the other side, I guess. And you'd better get used to calling me 'Malfoy' again."

Adrian laughed dryly. He shook his head and stared at him sadly. "I hate you, Malfoy."

* * *

When Blaise woke up he was disoriented, confused, and, oddly, in pain. It wasn't a particularly striking pain, but rather a dull ache all over his body as though he'd just come from a vigorous shag. He inspected his bedsheets to confirm if he had and then tried to search his memory as to what had happened before he passed out.

He remembered going to dinner. He remembered drinking his way through Draco's good liquor. He remembered talking to Adrian. But then…nothing until now. Something was amiss, he knew it, but he had no time to dwell on it now. The clock in the room told him that he was at least two hours late. He really needed to get going.

With a horrible grunt, groan, and a nearly dreadful cry, Blaise climbed off of his bed. His head was pounding, but he kept several Sobering Up Potions in the night table next to his bed. Signs of a budding alcoholic? Possibly. Was he concerned? Slightly, but in war just about any behavior was acceptable.

 _Maybe I'll try a hallucinogenic potion one day._

It was ten p.m. when Blaise left Edinburgh Castle. He quickly made his way onto the hills and then, with his apparating coin in hand, found himself back in his homeland of Italy and desperately longing for a healthy glass of wine. He suppressed it, however, because he needed a clear head. He wasn't worried about some Snatcher or the local Deatheaters spotting him. He had apparated straight onto his property and so the threat was nil. What he was more concerned with –or _who_ , rather –was his mother. She sometimes popped over to his modest six-bedroom, four-bathroom home that sat on a mass amount of land without telling him. He'd told her time and time again not to do that, but she had never been one for rules. In fact, she took a great pleasure in breaking them. It might've also helped that being inebriated at least sixty percent of the time impaired her judgement. Like mother like son, although that wasn't how the saying went.

"Eliza!" Blaise shouted. A house elf appeared at his feet.

"Yes, Master Zabini," she bowed. "How can Eliza help her master?"

"Is it ready?"

"Oh yes, Master Blaise! It has been ready since eight p.m."

"And properly kept warm?" He inquired. Eliza nodded.

"Yes, Master Blasie. It's as though it was just taken off of the stove!"

"Good. I'll take it now then."

"Yes, of course!" Eliza said enthusiastically. She snapped her fingers and a tray of food appeared in Blaise's hands. Just like she said, it was nice and warm –nice and _hot_ , really. Blaise dismissed her once he had the food and he took a deep breath as he made his way through the house. Up a set of stairs, down to his right, heading for one of two master bedrooms. One had been his, and he missed it terribly. The bedroom that he did enter was only marginally less spectacular than his. A king-sized bed, night tables, two dressers drawers, one of which hosted a vanity mirror, a walk-in closet, and a spacious bathroom attached. It was, in all honesty, a magnificent prison. But he supposed she had every right to be raging mad right now. And yet he couldn't stop laughing when she tried to charge at him, but bounced off and fell back on her arse –a well-erected shield keeping her trapped in the bedroom unless Blaise himself took it down.

"You've been doing that at every dinner since Friday, Carrow." Blaise said with an amused grin. "Will you ever stop?"

Fiona was seconds away from breathing fire. Yes, he was right. Ever since she woke up, thinking that it was some kind of cruel joke that heaven was a bedroom (however nice it was), she ran hard at Blaise to tackle him to the ground and pummel him. But that damn shield!

"Time to eat up."

Fiona watched as Blaise floated a tray of food past the shield and onto the night table next to her bed. It was yet another magnificently prepared meal. At first she hadn't eaten a single thing her supposed-murderer brought for her, but hunger was a terrible thing. It had begun making her sick and if she wanted to break out of there she needed her strength. Besides, if Blaise had wanted to kill her, she'd be dead. Of course, that revelation brought on a whole herd of questions -none of which he had answered whenever she had asked. He only came upstairs to feed her and that was all.

Although, this was the longest he'd ever stayed. Maybe this time he wouldn't deny her an answer?

"Blaise," Fiona said calmly. "Why am I here?"

"No."

"Oh, come _on!_ If you're not planning on letting me go then what's the harm in telling me? You know I'm only going to keep badgering you until you do."

"Not if I silence you," he replied with a grin. Fiona grumbled.

"Bastard,"

Blaise scoffed. "Really? _Really_ , Carrow? Let's not forget that you could be dead right now, a corpse burned to ash like Astoria's transfigured body."

"Yes," she agreed, trying to fight off a shiver at the image. "Could be, but not, and that's all I'm trying to figure out. You're cold and heartless. You've never _not_ killed anyone before and I just want to know what makes me so special."

" _Special_ ," Blaise spat. "Don't go flattering yourself; there's nothing special about you. But if you want to know so badly, fine. Your boyfriend is the reason I'm stuck with you."

Fiona froze. " _Andrew?_ "

"The one and only. We all knew that the full strength of the Dark Lord was underway, and he wanted to make sure that you were safe. That there was someone on the inside to look out for you."

"And he turned to _you?_ Right."

Blaise glared at her. "It's the truth."

"Sure it is." Fiona rolled her eyes. "Why don't you tell me then why Andrew would choose you over all people?"

 _Over Adrian, more precisely._

"Aside from knowing that he knew for a fact that I would become a Deatheater someday?" Blaise asked. He then sighed and leaned on the wall. "He needed someone he knew he could get drunk. Drunk enough to...to agree to make an Unbreakable Vow."

Fiona's mouth fell open. "No… You…? You're lying! Andrew would _never_ coerce someone into doing such a thing!"

"Not even for the girl he loves? Desperate times, desperate measures, Carrow. It was done just before the Christmas holiday during our seventh year."

Fiona couldn't believe it. She didn't _want_ to believe it. To bind someone with such magic was just…

"Wait," Fiona paused. "Who did the binding?"

"Your sister," Blaise answered with a sneer. "It was _her_ to suggest me in the first place. Too much of a coward to do it herself. Your family is horrible."

Fiona knew that. She gulped and asked, "And...and what did the vow say exactly?"

"That I had to protect you by any means necessary in the event of your boyfriend's death." Blaise grumbled. "See the wording on that there? In the event of his _death_. I was in the clear and then that son of a bitch died!"

"He didn't die! He was murdered!" Fiona shouted. Blaise groaned.

"Does it matter? Died, murdered, _whatever_. He's dead! And when he was then _my_ arse was put on the line."

Fiona scoffed. "I'm sorry Blaise, but this is _crazy_. Do you honestly expect me to believe that you've been looking out for me since the Battle of Hogwarts? This is the closest we've ever been to each other –unless you count sitting at a dining table or in a booth with you –since the war started! How exactly have you been protecting me?"

"I wasn't –not until now. You were never in the thick of the war so you were fine. Even when you got here I didn't worry because you were always with Draco. You two seemed chummy enough. I thought you were shagging-"

Fiona shuddered.

"-so he'd protect you. But then your stupid arse got found out! The Dark Lord wanted you dead which meant that _I_ was dead."

"You didn't have to tell him I was involved, you idiot!" Fiona fumed.

"I didn't. He searched my mind for it. After I told him about Granger he just dug right in."

Fiona gulped. "That means he knows about Draco too."

"Yes."

"I don't understand. Why doesn't he want Draco dead?"

"He does." Blaise frowned. "The Dark Lord saw what Theo told me. It was enough to out Draco as a traitor. He just wants him to suffer first."

Fiona's eyes went wide. "You have to tell him. For the love of Merlin, you have-"

"-I don't have to do a damn thing." Blaise snapped. "Let's get something straight here, Carrow. You're only alive because I'm a selfish prick and I care about _my_ arse. No one else's. I don't care about the resistance. Hell, I don't even care about the Dark Lord. I'm here to survive and have fun while doing it. That's all. Draco can find out about his self-made execution on his own –if he doesn't know already. Either that or through Pucey." Blaise added with a suck of his teeth.

Fiona tilted her head almost vertically. "Adrian?"

"Yes, Adrian. After finding out about Draco things started to make more sense. Like keeping you and him in Edinburgh while sending me off to look for Granger. Theo and I were _always_ Draco's right-hand men. No way we'd get usurped by two nobody Deatheaters."

Fiona huffed in offense while Blaise continued. "Pucey came sniffing around for information so I gave it to him. Sure, I was a little tipsy when I did it, but I've been drunk enough to know how to maneuver like I'm sober. What Draco chooses to do with the information is on him."

"So much for not caring about anyone but yourself."

"Shut up." He snarled.

"Why?" Fiona asked bravely. "You may be a Deatheater and a Slytherin, but you're still allowed to care-"

"I said shut up!" Blaise shouted. "I don't need you to be my bloody subconscious! Perhaps I _like_ not caring about that dumb arse I have for a friend. Ever think about that? If I don't care then his death won't matter. It won't matter…" His voice trailed off as his body began to shake.

Everything grew quiet then. Fiona merely stared at Blaise as he settled his gaze on the floor and tried to fight back his emotions. She sighed. "Blaise,-"

"Don't." He said evenly, and then he promptly left the room and slammed the door behind him. Once in the hall he gripped his left arm tightly.

The Dark Lord was calling.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Well! I don't think you can hate me over Fiona anymore ;). Thoughts on Blaise?

Thanks for reading guys!

-WP

 **quilla:** Good question. Honestly I didn't think it would be this long either lol. I do have the ending in mind actually, so if I venture a guess...ending in chapter 40-something :)


	30. Trapped

There was something about Blaise that night that rattled Hermione. The first time he had come to ask her questions it had seemed that there was a sick sort of pleasure he gained from it. But tonight? Tonight there was something else in him entirely. He wasn't amused. He was angry.

He was angry _at her._ He had charged into Hermione's cell and straightway asked her if she had anything useful for Voldemort. She had bit back her tongue, _hard_ , and lied through her teeth. She told him yes. She told him that she could brew a potion to suit his master's needs and gave him a list of some of the most obscure ingredients one could find. It would buy her time, she figured, and she thought that that would be the end of his visit.

How very wrong she'd been.

Blaise had pinned her down (straddled her was more like it) and he hiked up her sleeve. It was of the arm where the faded words of "mudblood" from Bellatrix years ago were engraved. Now though, those words weren't faded. He had pulled out a knife and made the brand fresh again.

If only he had stopped there.

After fleshing out the "mudblood" he wrote something else just before it. When he was finished, Blaise's hot and _very_ alcoholic breath was in her ear.

"This is _entirely_ your fault!"

Now Hermione was alone, cradling her arm and reading over and over again what he had labeled her with. It made her body shake –not the accusation, but the fact that it was so...public. If anyone saw it… If anyone understood what it meant…

Draco was a dead man.

Hermione's head jerked in the direction of the dungeon door opening. Her heart was pounding wildly, but she couldn't let that show. She tried her best to calm her expressions, but it was hard when she realized that there were things floating behind Voldemort as he walked.

"It seems I'll have to call for Draco." Voldemort said once he neared her cell. A smirk –if one could call it that –was on his face as he stared at her. "It seems as though his Imperius Curse is wearing off, yes?"

Hermione gulped. Was it her that gave it away? Had it been Blaise?

"Y-yes,"

"We'll fix that soon enough. But alas, more important matters are at hand."

Voldemort opened the cell door and everything that had been following him flew inside and landed at Hermione's feet. She did a better job at controlling her emotions this time although her insides were a mess.

The ingredients.

Everything she had told Blaise she would need for the potion was right there. Unicorn blood, a dragon scale, a centaur's hoof, among other things…

"Get started, mudblood." Voldemort ordered.

 _Get started?_ _ **Get started?**_ _Get started on what?!_

There was nothing to "get started" _on_. This was only supposed to be a distraction. Hermione dreaded to know how Voldemort had managed to get these things, and she dreaded even more what would happen now that she had everything in front of her. Now that she had begun grinding things and chopping things and using what she knew of the ingredients before her and their special properties so that she didn't blow them sky high.

But then again…why not? Voldemort was right here in the danger zone. So was she but war was about sacrifice wasn't it? She'd certainly done her fair share of sacrificing in the past few days, so what was one more if it could possibly kill him?

It was then that Hermione began to change her tactics. She knew that Voldemort wasn't stupid and that he would know what she was doing, so she had to be creative. Use the barest minimum of the ground dragon scale, but a copious amount of the unicorn blood. Just a pinch of the nails of a goblin, but a large amount of the gold dust. No matter how small the amount of the more innocuous ingredients, the volatile ones would still be effective. They may even be enhanced by them.

She was nearly finished now, saving the main (and explosive) ingredient for last. All she needed was one thing, and she hoped that it wouldn't backfire.

"I… An incantation has to be said." Hermione told him. Voldemort's eyes narrowed at that before she added quickly, "All you have to do it repeat after me. Move your wand counter-clockwise as you do."

"The incantation?" Voldemort inquired.

Hermione told him. She couldn't have been happier than to have been babysat by a neighbor who saw it fit to teach her Hebrew. Because _that_ was what she told him. A sentence, not an incantation, that she knew would have no effect on the potion. What would, however, was the seed of an Oleander plant. And as the last word left his lips, the seed slipped from her fingers and into the potion.

The sound of the seed sounded loud in the quiet. Voldemort's eyes turned to slits when he heard it.

" _What_ ," he said with a snarl, "was that?"

Hermione didn't answer him. She merely kept her eyes on the potion as its ripples flowed out to the rim of the cauldron. When the last one hit the potion immediately began to bubble. It had been red due to the unicorn blood, but now it had turned black. Hermione rose to her feet and backed onto the wall as the volatile concoction began to boil even more furiously.

"Stupid mudblood!" Voldemort shouted at her. "What did you do?!"

Hermione tore her eyes away from the potion and stared into his. She even dared a smile. "Killed us both."

Voldemort's rage was insurmountable, but Hermione couldn't see his face for long. The potion had just then erupted in every direction –a gush of black obscuring her vision. She had expected an explosion, but this, this was worse. Wherever the potion landed it ate it away like acid.

Bits of landed on her clothes, and Hermione cried out when she felt the potion burn her skin. It could have been worse, she knew, had Voldemort not been such the quick thinker and created a barrier that, oddly, protected her as well as himself from the onslaught. He disapparated from where he was to her side, yanked her by the upper arm and disapparated yet again. Hermione found herself once again in the middle of the foyer of Malfoy Manor and was roughly thrown to the ground.

 _Why didn't he kill me?_ Hermione thought wildly, but the question died in the back of her mind. She swallowed when she realized that she was in the company of other Deatheaters –not many, but the worst of them.

Among them Bellatrix was licking her lips cruelly as she played with her knife –the same knife, Hermione noted with dismay, as the one she had marred her skin with years ago _and_ the one Blaise had used only moments before. She had been in too much pain to realize that it had been the same. How _generous_ of Bellatrix to loan it out for toture…

Blaise was there too, and standing next to him was Draco, anger bleeding out of him as he realized that two new people had joined the small crowd.

* * *

When Draco had arrived at Malfoy Manor he immediately knew that something was wrong. He hadn't expected the place to be quiet –that much was certain. However, he hadn't expected it to be so lively either.

All of Voldemort's inner circle were here.

His aunt, Rowle, Fiona's mother and uncle, to name a few. It was a pack of twenty, Draco counted quickly, and it was only because they were in an uproar of laughter that they hadn't heard the fireplace come to life. He couldn't risk opening the passageway that would take him down to the dungeons with all of them here. Hell, he could barely risk taking Hermione out of the Manor.

Draco cursed. Was it worth it to sneak her out of here tonight? It was already a suicidal mission to begin with, but _this?_ This was more than that. This was a ten-ninety shot. Five-ninety-five even. The blond closed his eyes briefly, praying that Hermione would forgive him if the rescue that she didn't know about got postponed for yet another day. He was daring, yes, but only when there was a good shot of coming out on top. Granted, a twenty-eighty shot wasn't that great to begin with, but it was sure better than what the odds were now.

And yet, Draco didn't take to hiding in one of the many rooms the Manor had to offer. Instead, he clung to the shadows of the foyer in order to make to make it to the stairs. He did so because it was from one of the halls behind it that he saw Blaise emerging from.

The Italian was shocked to see him, to say the least. "The Dark Lord called you?"

It took all of Draco's will to keep from snarling. "Perhaps. And you?"

Blaise didn't hide his sneer one bit. "Perhaps. Regardless, we're both aware of the crowd going on over there." He gestured with his head. "We won't be wanted here."

"Maybe not you," Draco replied haughtily. "But only one of us is the Dark Lord's favorite and can get away with being here."

Blaise smirked. "You're right." His smirk fell as he added, "You should go."

Draco chuckled. "And here I thought we were friends."

"What are you two doing here?" A voice intruded. Both young Deatheaters looked to find one of Voldemort's upper circle scowling at them. "This is a _closed_ meeting. Upper level Deatheaters only."

"The Dark Lord had summoned us to see him earlier." Blaise lied blatantly. "We were just leaving."

The Deatheater named Carlson continued to scowl, but he nodded. "Hop to it then."

Carlson walked away and Draco's eyes trailed after him. Other Deatheaters had noticed him now, making his odds downright zero on getting Hermione out of here.

"What are they all doing here, Blaise?"

"I don't know."

Draco rounded on him quickly. "You're lying."

" _No,_ I'm not." Blaise said sternly. "Favorite or not, whether me or you, it doesn't matter. The Dark Lord would never let us in on his affairs."

"Maybe you don't know everything, but you know something." Draco took one step forward and said menacingly, "Don't think I didn't notice when you disappeared."

Quite frankly Draco was only talking about the time when Blaise had missed breakfast, but at the way the man fidgeted, he could only assume that it had been more than just the once. And he hadn't noticed it then? Merlin, he had been slipping…

There was the sudden sound of apparation and the grunt of a woman could be heard. Draco's body stiffened when he recognized the voice.

" _Draco!_ " Blaise harshly whispered when the blond took off towards the crowd. He ran after him, soon getting a clear picture of Voldemort in the middle of the foyer with Hermione on the ground. She looked worse than how he had left her, and he wondered just what had happened down in the dungeon with those ingredients he had informed Voldemort of.

"Granger…" Draco breathed as he looked at her. Blaise roughly yanked on his arm to pull him away from the crowd.

"We need to go." Blaise said. "We need to go _now._ "

Draco wrenched his arm away from him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Blaise groaned. "Are you kidding me? You'd die for her, Draco? Really?"

Draco nodded. "I would."

Blaise scoffed. "Idiot."

Draco ignored him when he heard Hermione scream. He scrambled his way back to the group of Deatheaters in order to see exactly what was happening. Were they not so transfixed they probably would've told him to bugger off. Fortunately they were too absorbed by what they were seeing. So was he. Hermione was writhing on the ground in such a way that Draco was sure she had broken a bone or two. Was she even conscious? There were cuts on her body from what he could see and he wondered if they had already been there or was because of the current torturing. Whatever the answer, it made his stomach turn uncomfortably. He even wanted to vomit.

And then Voldemort stopped, his sharp, cold eyes staring down at Hermione as she breathed shallowly, her eyes half-open as she fought for consciousness.

"I should let my Deatheaters have their way with you _again_." He hissed at her. Some of the Deatheaters in the room readied their wands. They were much too eager to put their wands to work. "However, we have little time to waste."

Voldemort, surprisingly, put his wand away. Draco watched as he pulled Hermione up to her knees. His long-fingered hands gravitated to her head, poised in such a way that with one swift move, her neck could break.

Flashbacks of Giselle's death filled Draco's mind. He could see her, just like Hermione, in the middle of the foyer. He could see her, helpless to do anything, and staring at Draco as her delicate neck twisted in unnatural ways. And yes, Hermione did see him. And yes, she was staring at him, although her focus seemed unsteady. And yes, there were silent tears swimming down her cheeks as Voldemort readied himself to end her life.

"NO!" Someone yelled.

The room turned cold and silent.

It took a lifetime for Draco to realize that the person who had yelled was _him_. However, it took a millisecond for him for draw his wand and say the Killing Curse.

Gasps were heard all around as the green light sped from Draco's wand and headed towards Voldemort. The evil man had no more Horcruxes. Elder wand be damned. He was as vulnerable as any person in the room. _Why_ hadn't he turned on him sooner?

Draco watched in extreme anticipation as the curse travelled to Voldemort's chest. The curse, however, did nothing to him. It bounced off as if the man had been protected by a shield and instead redirected to another one of his Deatheaters. Draco was astonished. So was Voldemort –if his facial reaction was anything to go by. Now there was only one thing left to do.

"GRANGER, RUN!"

However out of it Hermione had been before, his shout had woken her. She slid herself away from Voldemort and onto her feet. Draco apparated to the hall she had run towards and grabbed her hand when she reached him, dodging and blocking as many spells, hexes, and curses as he could manage.

"Draco," Hermione panted. "I'm not going to be able to-"

Hermione was weak. Draco could feel her wanting to drop to the ground with every step they took. He grabbed her by the waist, letting her arm swing over his shoulder as he took most of her weight. He had his coin for long-distance apparating in his pocket, but he couldn't risk using it with Hermione's condition. It could kill her if he did. They just needed to get to the end of the hall.

"Polly!" Draco shouted. The house elf appeared at the side of a suit of armor just ahead of them. "Distract them, then go!"

"Yes, Master Malfoy!" Polly nodded as his Master and Mistress ran past. Draco didn't see what happened, but he could see the remnants of a bright white light and heard several screams.

It was enough.

Draco leaned Hermione against the wall. She did her best not to fall to the ground as he used his wand to slit his hand and rub some of his blood against a portrait they stood near. It swung open and he hurled them both inside. The portrait closed once they were in, but they weren't far from real danger. Draco knew that they would blast that portrait apart within seconds and to be chased and attacked down a narrow tunnel was _not_ a good predicament to be in.

"We need to apparate." Hermione said, nearly falling as she went. Draco scooped her up in his arms like she was nothing and continued as fast as he could.

"We can't. You could-"

The sound of a huge blast ricocheted behind him, rock and dust overtaking them.

"Just do it!"

Draco regrettably dug his hand into his pocket and did what she said. The pull of apparation tugged at them hard, and they both fell with a thud into the middle of a crowded street. There were gasps all around, but Draco was only focused on one voice as Hermione cried out in pain. She had splinched. He knew she had, but he had no idea where.

"Quick!" Another voice called to him. "Inside! Inside!"

Draco felt a pair of arms grabbing at him and he complied. He awkwardly rose to his feet with Hermione in tow and was ushered into a pub. Despite being a public place it was deserted, and the woman who had brought them in used her wand to shut up the windows and to lock the front door.

"You were only two districts away!" Dorea scolded. "Why didn't you go straight there?"

"How did you know I'd even be here?" Draco asked as he set Hermione down on one of the booth's tables.

"The Order put out an alert that you'd be getting Hermione out tonight." She replied as she snuck a peek through the window's blinds. "They figured it'd be chaos. Seems like they were right. You should've gone straight to Merchiston."

"She wouldn't have made it." Draco said as he rolled up Hermione's left sleeve. It was bleeding the most and so he figured that's where she'd been splinched. He'd been wrong, but what he saw there still made his face grow pale. He knew that she'd had "mudblood" carved into her arm thanks to his aunt, but there was something else there. Something new. Something that had been aggravated by apparating and thus made to bleed.

His name.

"Draco's" had been etched into her skin right before the heinous slur. Now her arm read "Draco's mudblood."

Draco finally vomited. He upchucked everything that his body had to offer and yet he still wanted to do more.

"You two have to go." Dorea said as she approached. "You were seen. Deatheaters are going to be here before you know it. Leave. There's a tunnel behind the ceiling-to-floor mirror in the private bathroom just beyond the bar. It'll take you to an abandoned shoppe in Dalry. I'll hold them off."

Draco blinked. "You'll hold them off? _Alone?_ Dorea, I don't think-"

"You're forgetting that everyone saw me take you and Hermione in. I'm a dead woman anyway." She replied with a half-smile. "Just make sure my death is worth it. Got it, Malfoy?"

He gulped, then nodded. "Got it."

"And…" Dorea took a deep breath, seeming to have remembered something that hurt. "If you see Gavin again can you… Can you tell him 'me too?'"

Draco didn't ask what she meant by that. He only nodded once again, promising that he would before he attended to Hermione. He was rummaging through his rucksack and put his hands on a Stamina Potion. He uncorked it with his teeth, gently sitting Hermione up so that she could drink it.

"I'm going to need you on your feet, Granger. Drink it all."

She did. She had swallowed the last drop just as there were several distinct sounds of apparation happening out in the streets.

"Go!" Dorea shouted as she readied her wand. "Go now!"

Hermione slid herself off of the table and Draco pulled her along by the wrist towards the private bathroom beyond the bar.

"My wand, Draco. Where is it?" Hermione questioned as they entered the bathroom. Draco tossed her the rucksack as he went up to the mirror.

"It's in there. Damn it," he cursed as he stood in front of the mirror. "Dorea didn't say how to get through it."

There was an explosion and everything around them shook. Hermione had found her wand and brandished it towards the mirror.

"Get out of the way!"

Draco complied, but readied his wand for the onslaught of wood, stone, and glass that erupted from her "Bombarda Maxima." The fight from the streets had clearly tumbled into the shoppe. The blond couldn't help but think about Dorea. Was she still holding up? Was she taking her last breath? Both questions were answered when he heard her scream. Draco and Hermione were about to take off down the now exposed tunnel, but they both found themselves lifted off their feet and tossed to either side of the room. Their wands fell from them as well as the rucksack. Neither could move as they remained glued to their respective walls. Draco turned his head and felt his heart stop.

"Naughty, naughty, nephew." Bellatrix tutted, her twisted smile even more so as she pointed her wand at him and Hermione in turn. "You've been a very bad boy."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Major cliffy going on! Fingers crossed and hopes that Draco and Hermione can make it out of this!

-WP


	31. Halfway Home

Adrian had never felt more alone in his life, and this from the man who'd been pining away for a girl he could never have for years.

But he did get her, didn't he? In the end there, he'd had Fiona and despite the horrors of the war and the plotting against Voldemort, Adrian could successfully say that he had been happy.

And now she was dead.

Hermione had been captured, but if everything turned out alright, both she and Draco would be gone. If everything went well, Adrian would officially be alone to battle against these people. To feed information to the resistance when able and when necessary. There was a great deal of responsibility resting on his shoulders and it made him feel both important and incredibly scared. How the hell was Draco able to do this? Adrian had no problems being a follower. He took orders well and executed them as such. But to take such initiative with the dangers…

Adrian took a deep breath and cradled his head in his hands.

"I should have left with them."

And then he grunted in pain. He held his left arm to his chest as it burned like mad and he wondered what Voldemort must've wanted at this time of night. Well, no, not really. Adrian knew it had to be Hermione-related. Draco had left over a half an hour ago, some forty-five minutes by now. Voldemort must have noticed that she was gone, but that wasn't what made Adrian scared. Did the Dark Lord want him and the other Deatheaters to go on a search party? Were they all going to be questioned seeing as escape from Malfoy Manor was supposed to be impossible? Or was it worse?

Adrian got up and left his room. Others were in the halls with worry etched onto their features.

"What do you think's happened?" Daphne asked him as they made their way to the Floo.

"I don't know." Adrian said. "I'm imagining nothing good."

"Great," Goyle groaned, overhearing them. "And to think I was hoping to get a good rest tonight."

"Has anyone seen Draco?" Pansy asked. Adrian cursed. _Of course_ , she would be the one to point out his absence. But then again, there was someone else just as noticeable that wasn't here.

"Where's Blaise?" Adrian questioned. No one seemed to know. A sinking feeling creeped into his stomach as he stepped into the fireplace and not even bothering to wait for someone else to join him.

When Adrian stepped out the fireplace at Malfoy Manor it was utter chaos. Voldemort was torturing someone he didn't know. A Snatcher perhaps? He couldn't tell. The man's face was bloody and his body was battered. Adrian took a look around the room and found some Deatheaters missing. Others looked hurt.

 _Good._

Bellatrix was standing close to her master, a mixture of fear and worry masking her face rather than her usual display of eagerness at death and destruction. Voldemort finally released his curse on the man and he choked as he tried to breathe.

" _No one,_ " Voldemort hissed, "barges in on me! _No one!_ "

"But...but…" the Snatcher gasped. "She was sighted. The...the mudblood! She was sighted."

Bellatrix's bloodlust returned. "Where?!"

"Gorgie," he answered. He coughed up blood before repeating, "She's in Gorgie."

"Go." Voldemort said to Bellatrix before turning to them all. "Go! Kill the mudblood! But as for Draco...you'll bring him to _me._ "

 _Gorgie?_ Adrian repeated in his mind. _What are they doing in Gorgie?_

Although what Draco and Hermione were doing there instead of Merchiston was in his head, other people had other questions rolling around in theirs.

" _Draco? What does Draco have to do with this?"_

" _Is he in Gorgie?"_

" _No, certainly not with the mudblood."_

" _But what if he_ _ **is?**_ _"_

" _A traitor perhaps?"_

" _No, not Draco."_

"Come on," came Blaise's voice. Adrian whipped around and found the man's hand on his arm. "We've got to go."

Adrian had barely gotten his bearings when Blaise long-distance apparated them from Malfoy Manor's foyer and to the district of Gorgie. When they landed a fight had already been underway. They were in the town center, and Deatheaters were battling a middle-aged woman who was handling herself against the vicious monsters beautifully.

Well, beautifully enough.

The most she could do was defend, and with each spell, curse, or hex she blocked, she found herself getting pushed further and further back into the pub.

Pub.

Gorgie.

 _Dorea?_

There was the sound of an explosion and Adrian charged in after other Deatheaters with his wand raised. He wasn't there to add to the damage, but he had to see. He had to see if Dorea had somehow made it out alive. However, by the time he entered the pub a wretched scream had left Dorea's lips as she was hoisted into the air by Ivan Greengrass. A flick of his wand slit her throat and her body hit the ground with a horrid thud.

Adrian fought off a shiver. The sound of her body colliding with the wood would haunt him for the rest of his life. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Bellatrix's shrill laughter replaced the sound.

" _Naughty, naughty, nephew."_

 _Nephew?_

Adrian trudged forward, following where other Deatheaters had went and finally found them all in a bathroom where a giant hole had been made. A hole that led to a tunnel. And beside that tunnel were the two people he had hoped never to see again unless it was out on a battlefield with the rest of the resistance.

"Bleeding hell," Blaise mumbled next to him. Adrian hadn't even realized that he'd followed. They were both amidst the crowd, watching the scene, holding their breaths for the outcome.

"You were the Dark Lord's favorite." Bellatrix said as she took a step towards Draco. "And you threw it away for a _mudblood._ "

She had spat the last word as she finally stood directly in front of him. "When did it start, hm? Your traitorous ways. Did you suddenly feel remorse after binding her in London? No? Before then perhaps? Yes…" Bellatrix smiled, letting her wand trace lines across Draco's face. "It was you who had alerted us to the mudblood's presence there. But why, if you were only going to release her?" She chuckled, slashing her wand down so a wound opened on Draco's cheek.

Adrian grit his teeth as he watched. Blaise seemed to have done the same. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. They were friends after all. Even with their animosity as of late.

"No matter," Bellatrix said as she stepped away from him. Adrian's heartrate sped up as she neared Hermione. "We'll get answers out of you once we bring you to the Dark Lord. But as for this one," she raised her wand to Hermione's chest. "You get to die."

"Don't you dare lay a wand on her." Draco snarled at his aunt. She turned wild eyes to him while Adrian began to think. He had to do something, _anything_ , to distract her. He let his eyes roam, not sure what he was looking for, but hoping that he'd know it when he'd see it. What he did see, eventually, was the ceiling and how damaged it was. Maybe he could...crack it more? He certainly couldn't use his wand without someone seeing him, but was his wandless magic good enough to crumble solid cement and wood onto everyone?

Adrian cursed silently, but he still had to try.

As Blaise stood beside him, he kept his eyes on what was happening with Draco and the mudblood as well as the traitor next to him. If Pucey cared about the two of them as much as he thought he did, then he would have something up his sleeve to get them out of this. And now Blaise had a decision to make. He could care less about Granger. He really could. But this was Draco. _Draco_. His best friend. His idiot best friend. His idiot best friend who went and fell for a mudblood. To help him would be to help her. And helping either of them could get himself killed. But if he helped Pucey to help them without him knowing about it…

Blaise glanced over at Pucey. His eyes were settled on Bellatrix setting a horrific Crucio on Draco. But occasionally his eyes lifted up to the ceiling. Blaise did the same and he saw how fragile it looked and...was it breaking? That's when he noticed the subtle movements of the traitor's hand.

 _Huh. Wandless magic? Interesting._

At this rate, however, Draco would be captured. Blaise already had his wand out and by his side. He flicked it gently and quickly. Once it made the ceiling crack. Twice it made it crack further. By the third time, the ceiling moaned and he immediately regretted following along with this _terrible_ idea.

"Watch out!" Blaise shouted. Deatheaters looked up and then scrambled. Some used their wands to shield themselves from the oncoming debris. Doing that caused some of the debris to bounce off and hit others. Blaise took a hunk of rock to the shoulder. Adrian hurled himself to the wall to avoid a massive one to the head and turned his attention to the rear of the bathroom.

Draco and Hermione had dropped to the floor from the wall. The last Adrian could see was Draco calling for their wands and the rucksack and hightailing it through the tunnel.

"Go after them!" Bellatrix screeched.

* * *

" _Don't_ lay a wand on her?" Bellatrix repeated with narrow eyes. She had walked away from Hermione and back towards her nephew. Draco's heart was erratic, but he'd do anything at this point to keep his maniacal aunt away from her. That included taking a brutal Cruciatus Curse. Not that he wasn't familiar with them, but it somehow seemed worse when you were magically glued to a wall and unable to move. As his body writhed and arch, it felt as though he was pushing against invisible binds and it only made it hurt more.

"You disgrace your family, Draco." His aunt said after lifting the curse. "You would honestly choose _her_ over your blood? Over your _pure_ blood?"

Draco swallowed. "I would."

Bellatrix screamed in frustration and jammed her wand into Draco's throat. "Surely the Dark Lord will forgive me if I end you. What do you say, Draco?"

"Don't!" Hermione yelled, but her shout was drowned out when the ceiling gave a harsh moan. It had collapsed and as Deatheaters fled left and right Draco found himself dropping to the floor. He looked up and saw that Hermione had done the same before turning to a sharp flourishment of his hand towards his aunt who was knocked back into the crowd.

"Draco, we have to go!" Hermione shouted. Draco called for their wands and the rucksack, the latter tossing to Hermione who slung it over her shoulder before taking off down the tunnel. He followed, only faltering once in his running when he felt a shooting pain follow up his leg.

Draco fell. He rolled over onto his back to find Adrian leading the pack with his wand out. His eyes were earnestly telling the blond to move, but Hermione was on it. She took her wand from Draco and sent her famous fireball curse down the tiny tunnel. Adrian was smart enough to duck once he saw a wand in her hand, watching as flames enveloped the walls and several Deatheaters behind him. Draco yanked Hermione down to the floor and held her against him. His coin was in his hand and he prepared to disapparate but nothing happened. He tried a second time, but it was a no go.

Hermione shared a brief worried glance with him before she helped him to his feet. With his arm over her shoulder she helped him down the tunnel, looking back every now and again just waiting for one of those idiots to remember the right charm to put out the flames so they could chase them down.

"Apparate us to Merchiston." Draco said. "2 Dorset Place, Merchiston. I can't do it myself. Not without the coin and not while my leg is in this much pain."

"We shouldn't apparate at all then." Hermione argued. "You could be splinched."

Draco groaned. "Granger-"

"This tunnel takes us to Dalry. That's what Dorea said, isn't it? I'll apparate us there, but no further."

Draco didn't get the chance to argue. Hermione cast a Disillusionment Charm on them before apparating out of the tunnel and into the town center of Dalry. Draco had to bite on his tongue hard to keep himself from crying out. Although the sound of apparation was hideously loud, no passersby could pinpoint where it came from. That included Lucius Malfoy and a few Snatchers he ordered about to find the source of the noise. They stayed put until they were all gone.

Hermione and Draco kept firm grips on each other so they didn't lose one another as they travelled the late night streets. After checking an abandoned building for any people inside they ushered themselves in, finally able to breathe.

"Did you get splinched at all?" Hermione asked once she removed the charm on them. Draco shook his head.

"Did you?"

"No. Let's get into an apartment. Once this Stamina Potion wears off I won't have much energy to help you with your leg."

Draco agreed, once again leaning on her for support as they took to the stairs. Better to be on a higher landing than a lower one should Deatheaters or Snatchers come barging in. So, third floor it was. Hermione helped him get settled onto the couch while she sat on her knees with the rucksack he had packed on the floor next to her.

"What you did tonight was absolute suicide." Hermione said as she rummaged through the bag. She smiled once or twice at what was in there. He'd clearly been prepared.

"I agree. But you would've been killed otherwise."

"I know. So...thank you. Now take these off." She pointed to his pants.

Draco smirked. "Why Granger, taking advantage of a hurt man?"

Hermione shook her head at him. "Not even close. Come on now before I'm of no use to you."

The blond resisted the urge to pick apart what she'd just said and began easing his pants down. "I regret telling Adrian not to take it easy on me." Draco groaned. "Damn it!"

Hermione stared at him as pride swelled. "Draco…you called him Adrian."

"Yes, I did. A little focus, though, would be nice."

"Oh! Yes, yes, of course. Sorry,"

Hermione had her wand in her hand and began waving it around his leg. She needed to pinpoint where the spell had hit before she got to work on it.

"Take a sip of this in the meantime." She offered him a Pain Potion that she'd found in the rucksack. Draco pushed it away from him.

"No. You'll need that soon and we shouldn't waste any of it on me."

Hermione frowned. "But Draco you-"

"The only reason you don't feel anything now is because you've got an adrenaline kick from that Stamina Potion. You'll need it, so put it away."

She sighed, recognizing a stubborn person when she saw one. They were silent for a bit, giving Hermione the concentration she needed to work. Even as she moved her wand about stiffness and pain began to find themselves lodged in her joints. The potion was wearing off much more quickly than she thought it would. Either that or she was much more hurt than she thought she was.

"You said Merchiston." Hermione said after a while. "What's waiting for us in Merchiston?"

"Portkey," Draco replied, his leg feeling much better than before. "Your friends arranged one for us."

"Ace?"

"Ace."

"Of course," she mused to herself as she set down her wand. Draco watched as her arm slackened to her side. He hitched up his pants quickly and grabbed her upper body before she could fall to the floor. She cried out in pain at where he touched, and he suddenly remembered what was there on her arm and felt his gag reflexes wanting to come into play.

He gulped. He didn't move her. He just sat there on the floor next to her, one arm around her waist, and the other reaching for that Pain Potion for her to drink. She rested her head on his shoulder when she was done and Draco, against his better judgment, lifted the sleeve of her shirt to see the damage just one more time.

"The Dark Lord did this to you." Draco said. It wasn't a question, Hermione realized, and she shallowly shook her head as she watched him trace his thumb over his name.

"No. Zabini did."

Draco's hand stopped as he snapped his eyes to her. Blaise. _Blaise._ The notorious womanizer and downright rapist. He knew that the man had been down to her cell to see her. He'd have to be a fool and completely in denial to think otherwise. But even then, it turned his blood cold at the thought that Blaise had tortured her. Touched her. That he may have…

"Did he…?"

"No." Hermione answered quickly. The relief that washed over Draco's face was intense. "He just did this and…cut me."

The relief disappeared.

"Where?" Draco asked tentatively. Hermione held herself as she shuddered at the memory of it.

"Everywhere,"

* * *

It had taken an hour for Draco to convince Hermione to let him see what Blaise had done to her. When he finally saw it, he was speechless. The only thing he could do was help her pull her clothes back on and coax her into sleep. When he was sure that she was sleeping deeply, Draco pulled out his coin and messaged Adrian. He didn't know how long it would take for him to see it considering the epic failure he and the others had been at catching their prey, but Draco would wait.

And he did.

For three hours.

Draco sat on the floor next to Hermione's sleeping form on the couch behind him with his piece of the mirror in his hands and waiting for it to light up. When it finally did, he jerked awake. It was nearly six in the morning, but still oddly dark with a nighttime glow.

"Draco," Adrian smiled. His teeth were stained red and he flinched as he spoke. "How far did you two get-?"

"Kill him." Draco said with the coldest tone he'd ever heard. "Kill him. Make the process as long and agonizing as possible."

Worry etched onto Adrian's face. He didn't have to ask who the "him" was. "Draco, what happened?"

"It's Granger, he…"

"Hermione? What did Blaise do to her that you-?"

"Does it matter?" He snapped angrily. "And why the hell are you questioning me when you were ready to kill him a week ago? Just end him!"

"I can't do that, Draco, and you know it." Adrian shook his head and then grit his teeth shortly afterwards. "You were right before. We need him. We can't get any insider Deatheater knowledge without-"

"He cut her, Adrian."

Adrian stopped. "What?"

"He sliced her like she was nothing." Draco continued, his face hard and dangerous. "She'd already been covered in scars before, but these were so deep and vicious that I could tell which ones were his. _Kill. Him._ "

"Draco-"

"He hurt her! He-"

"At least she's alive." Adrian said, and Draco quickly shut his mouth. "I don't want to say that my problems are worse than yours, but at least Hermione's alive. We need to drain Blaise dry of information before we get rid of him. So, I'm going to play nice just like you told me to do from the beginning, all the while planning his death. If it makes you feel better, you can take first shot at him."

"No, no, it's fine." Draco replied. His voice was much calmer now and he ran a tired hand over his face. "Your problems _are_ worse than mine. You can still have at it."

"Thanks. So, where are you? I can tell from the not-so-cushy background that you're not with the resistance."

"Dalry. We couldn't make it to the portkey without splinching ourselves."

Adrian furrowed his brow. "But our disapparating coins-?"

"Stopped working for me." Draco grumbled. "I guess the Dark Lord cut it off."

"Makes sense. You did kind of piss him off royally last night."

Draco chuckled. "Looks like it." He sighed. "How is it on your end?"

"Well, as you can tell from my lovely smile I got tortured once we all returned." Adrian replied. "I got the easiest time of it since Blaise vouched for me and told the Dark Lord that I got you with a spell."

Draco stared at him in surprise. "Blaise _vouched_ for you?"

"I couldn't believe it either. And get this, he volunteered to head up a team to find you."

"You're kidding. That little son of a-"

"That's not the crazy part." Adrian interrupted. "What's crazy is that he picked _me_ as part of the team."

Draco's mouth dropped. " _He what?_ "

"I don't get it either, mate. I mean, he picked me first out of everyone. Something isn't right with him, Draco. I don't know what he's got planned for me, but it's nothing good."

"All the more reason to stick close to him so you can see the knife aiming for your back coming." Draco said firmly. Adrian nodded.

"Right. And listen, although it's Blaise running this show, you've got to keep your eyes and ears out for Snatchers, got it? And get your arses over to that portkey before the end of the night. Patrol will become utter madness after dark."

"Will do. You take care of yourself, Adrian."

"I'll try. Oh, how's the leg?"

"Go screw yourself."

Adrian laughed. "Be safe."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Oh Blaise, you complicated person you… But at least Hermione and Draco are almost free! Also, I believe someone asked me how long this story will be, but I can't remember if I replied. If I take a shot in the dark, no more than 45 chapters.

Also, for those in the US celebrating Thanksgiving, have a good one! :). Time for me to get cooking!

-WP

Reviews to Guests

 **Bamabutterfly:** Oh thank you! Glad that you like it! I update every Thursday :)


	32. Sacrifice

Fiona had never been so bored or so worried in her life. Draco's head was on the chopping block and she prayed endlessly that he wasn't in the dark about it. But even if he wasn't, then what? How exactly could he get out of it without drawing even _more_ attention to himself? Granted, he was brilliant at getting himself out of sticky situations, but even then everyone has their limits.

And then there was Hermione. Fiona didn't have a single clue as to what had happened to her. Had she been captured in London? Was she still alive? If she was, how much longer would she be? If only she had her coin then she could contact Draco and find out the answers to all of the questions that had been brewing in her head since she had woken up in this bedroom. But, so it seemed, the coins were finicky little things. Whatever spell Blaise had used to make her look like she'd died, it was good enough to trick the coin into thinking that she really had. Maybe then Hermione hadn't died at all those two years ago. An extremely low pulse. That's all. That's all it took. The resistance would have to do some major tinkering once she told them about it.

 _If_ she ever got the chance to tell them about it.

Fiona sighed.

She had no wand. She didn't know any wandless magic. The windows were charmed so they couldn't be opened or broken. There was that pesky little barrier that kept her from getting to the door. Even if she _did_ somehow make it, she assumed that the door itself would have charms on it as well.

How long was Blaise planning on keeping her here? Until the war ended? Merlin knew how long that would be considering that the Order was no closer in figuring out a way to defeat Voldemort. She could very well be here for the rest of her life. Or Blaise's. His death would put an end to these charms and then she'd be free.

Just then the door to the bedroom opened and Blaise stormed in. Fiona only ever saw him during dinner and so, needless to say, to find him in front of her during broad daylight was disconcerting.

"Tell me where the resistance is _right now_."

Fiona quirked her brow. "I'm sorry?"

"You're not deaf, Carrow." Blaise scowled at her. "Resistance. Their location. _Now._ "

Fiona was used to Blaise's demanding nature, but something about him now was off. He looked haggard. Disheveled. Hurt, most definitely, as though he had just come out of a battle. That thought sobered her quickly and she felt her heart hammer in her chest.

"Something's happened. What is it?"

"Draco's gone."

Fiona's face paled. "Gone? Gone as in… _gone?_ "

"Gone as in fled." Blaise clarified. "He took off with the mudblood in tow. And I'm in charge of finding that blond git."

" _You?_ " She said in disbelief. "You're heading up the search party for Draco?"

"That's right."

"But…how could you? He's your best friend-"

"You'd rather it be someone like Bellatrix?" Blaise countered. "At least I'll be merciful about it. Now, don't make me ask you again. Where's the resistance? That's the only place Draco could be going and that's where I'm going too."

"I don't know." Fiona answered honestly. "But even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"You're lying."

"Am I? They're not stupid. For me to know their exact location while I'm a Deatheater would've been the most horrible mistake to make during a war."

Blaise blinked. "Then how've you been helping them?"

Fiona huffed in his direction, maintaining her silence. Blaise groaned and ran his hands over his worn face.

"Fiona," he said tiredly. "I _need_ to find him."

"Not my problem." She snapped at him. "So, you'd might as well just..."

Fiona stopped. She was staring at Blaise now – _really_ getting a good look at him. Aside from the war zone exterior that he was sporting, there was something else there. Was that...was that _worry_ in his eyes? Yes, that was concern alright, and she wondered if it was enough for her to use to her advantage.

"I'll make you a proposition."

"A proposition?" Blaise scoffed. "You're making me a _proposition?_ "

"Yes, so here it is." Fiona took a deep breath. "I honestly haven't a clue where the resistance is. However, there... _may_ be a way for me to find out. If you let me go-"

He snorted.

"-I can find my way to them. Once I'm there, I can keep my eye on Draco. I can make sure he stays safe."

"Stay safe?" He repeated. "This isn't a bloody tea party I'm inviting him to, Carrow! This is a search and detain. And he'll die when it's over."

"And will he stay dead?" Fiona dared to ask. Blaise's anger was bubbling to the surface, but she continued nonetheless. "Whether you want to admit it out loud or not, you love Draco like a brother. You don't want to see him dead. You headed up this search party so that you could get to him first and then make sure that nothing happened to him. Go on, tell me I'm wrong."

Blaise looked ready to spit fire. But no, he wouldn't admit it. He _couldn't_ admit it. If he did it would only make things that much harder. That much harder to lose if it all got cocked up.

"I'm not letting you go." He said, completely ignoring what she'd told him. "Next thing you know I'm faking your death twice and I'm…"

Fiona heard him pause. "You're what?"

"Following you to the grave, that's what." Blaise finished. "The Vow had begun killing me that night. It wasn't for very long, but the pain was unrelenting. It couldn't tell the difference between almost dead and _dead_ dead with you. I'm not doing that again.

'So, you'll stay put." He added with finality. "Besides, now that I think about it, Pucey will probably be a better help than you anyway. He and Draco did become such _good pals_ as of late. And he's not the one confined to a four-walled room."

Fiona's eyes widened. "If you find Draco, you'll find the Order too. I can't let you do that. If you just let me-"

"I said no! What you fail to realize is that I'm still a Deatheater whether my reasoning for wanting to find Draco is the same as everyone else's or not. With that said, all of the Order could die and I'd feel nothing. My only concern is for that bloody blond idiot. You're trying to save too many lives here and, quite frankly, you'd be much better off being selfish. Pucey _will_ help me, whether he knows it or not."

* * *

"You should sleep." Giselle said.

Draco was sitting at the kitchen counter where he could see Hermione properly. Granted, he could've done so easily by sitting in the armchair right next to her, but that was much too comfortable. He needed to stay awake. He needed to be alert. So it seemed, his father had been commissioned to Dalry. He had spotted the elder Malfoy ordering Snatchers to keep their eyes and ears open. It made Draco's stomach turn. His own father… His own father was being the dutiful Deatheater and was on the lookout for the traitor. Did he even care what Voldemort would want to do to him if he was captured?

Draco scowled. "I can't. I have to figure out a way to get Granger and me out of here and to that portkey."

"Apparation?"

"I don't want to risk her getting hurt. Splinching, although she's mostly healed, could reverse everything."

"Hmm, any Polyjuice Potion in that rucksack?"

"There is, but I'm trying to keep that as a last resort. Best not to use up hard-to-find or hard-to-brew potions."

Giselle gently nodded in agreement and sighed. "Can I ask you something, Draco?"

"You're going to ask me whether I want you to or not." Draco replied cheekily. "Go ahead."

"Why is it that you call her 'Granger?'"

"What?" He furrowed his brow. "That's her name."

"Her _last_ name."

"So what? We've always called each other by our surnames."

"Perhaps," Giselle shrugged. "But not lately. She's been calling you 'Draco,' or haven't you noticed?"

Yes, yes he had noticed. But quite frankly it'd been so hectic in the past twelve hours that he hadn't put much attention to it. She had called him by his given name even before this –right around the time (or the exact time) they had slept together. He supposed that would be considered a catalyst to be on a first name basis.

"So, why not reciprocate?" His imagination asked. Draco knew the answer to that, but he didn't want to say it out loud.

To put it simply, Draco was at a crossroads. He wanted Hermione. That much was clear. He was on a strong trajectory of feelings much like the ones he had for Giselle, and it scared him. Giselle's death had broken him. Having Hermione as Voldemort's prisoner had nearly broken him again. What if Hermione died? What would he do then?

He should've stuck to his guns. He should've kept his barriers up like he said he'd do. Because now? _Now?_ Keeping one's distance from someone you're not attracted to is easy. But when you are? Draco was in for a round of torture physically, mentally, and emotionally. It hadn't even been a full day yet and already he was suffering.

Merlin, help him.

"Draco?"

 _Damn Giselle for pointing that out._

"I'm over here."

"Oh," Hermione said as she stretched and then sat up. "Merlin, you look terrible."

Draco huffed. "Yes, that's just what every man likes to hear about his appearance."

Hermione frowned. "Someone's in a foul mood."

"It's been a rough night. You, of all people, should agree."

She nodded and fiddled with her thumbs. Draco stared at her now that she wasn't looking at him and sighed. This was going to be much harder than he had hoped.

"How did you sleep?" She asked.

"I didn't."

"That explains the look then."

Draco grunted and tiredly ran his hands over his face and head. "There's a major problem on getting out of here."

"I figured that much." Hermione replied as she got up and headed over to him. "Deatheaters, Snatchers, or both?"

"Both. Only one Deatheater though,"

"Well, that's great. And you and I can handle a couple of Snatchers no prob-"

"The Deatheater is my father."

Hermione stopped. She let her optimistic personality falter and grew silent at this new information. "I wouldn't have thought Lucius to be in a search party for you. Maybe it's just a ploy? Maybe he wants to help-?"

"He doesn't."

"Are you sure?"

"He's _my_ father, so yes, I'm pretty sure."

"Alright, fine," Hermione said angrily. "There's no need to be snippy about it."

"I have every right to be 'snippy' about it." Draco growled at her. "My own bloody father is on a manhunt for his son!"

"I get that! And you're right, be pissed about it, but don't take your anger out on me just because I'm the only person you can lash out at right now!"

Hermione turned on her heel then and stomped away from him. She didn't go very far, choosing to collapse onto the sofa she had woken up on with her arms crossed.

Draco yanked on his hair. _Way to go, Draco. Can you distance yourself from her while_ _ **not**_ _making her want to throttle you?_

"I'm sorry, alright?" Draco apologized. "I've been awake for a solid twenty-four hours and I have daddy issues. Satisfied?"

"Hardly," Hermione snorted, "but I'll take it." She finally let down her arms and settled her hands onto her lap. "You should sleep."

"No, we have to move. I spoke to Adrian and he said that we should get to that portkey before nightfall. The search for us will be bigger when it gets dark."

"How is he? Is he alright?"

"A little banged up, but he's fine. He, um," Draco cleared his throat. "He's part of the search team for me. Blaise is heading it."

Hermione's eyes bulged. "Zabini? Hunting _me_ , I get, but you? Did You-Know-Who force him to-?"

Draco shook his head solemnly. "No, he volunteered."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I gave Adrian permission to kill him while you were asleep for what he did to you-"

Hermione gasped.

"-but Adrian turned the proposal down. That said, I think my friendship with Blaise is a bit...rocky at the moment."

The brunette chuckled. "I'd say so. So, about getting out of here? If we have to get to Merchiston before sunset, what were you thinking of?"

Draco took a deep breath. "Well, there's only one plan that has the least problems, albeit executing the beginning may be difficult without drawing attention."

Hermione tilted her head. "Okay…"

"Bound and gag my father. Imperius him. Let him lead the Snatchers away so that we can get out of Dalry safely. Once we're in Merchiston it should be a quick sprint to the portkey."

"Let me do it."

Draco blinked. Not once. Not even twice. He was expecting protests from the witch, not agreement, nor taking the task upon herself. He shook his head.

"Why?"

"You already said that you have daddy issues." Hermione said plainly. "And that's not just because he's scouring the streets for his traitor son. This is delicate and we can't afford to have you hesitate."

Draco scowled. "I'm _not_ going to hesitate."

"You don't know that. He's still your father. It's just safer if I do it."

" _Granger,-_ "

"I'll let you Imperius him at the very least." She offered. "You know his mind better than I do anyway. Deal?"

Draco wanted to argue. He knew what she was getting at and appreciated it, he really did, but it was also like a slap to the face at his capabilities in compartmentalizing. This was war. He was a defected Deatheater. Certainly he had thought of the people he would have to target when fighting on the side of Light. He knew a confrontation like this would come. Granted, not so soon, but still…

Though, with a heavy sigh Draco agreed. Hermione was a stubborn person –perhaps more so than he. She'd have her way whether he liked it or not.

* * *

When Adrian woke up it was noon and his hip was positively on fire. He groaned, fished his coin out of his pocket and watched as message after message flashed in succession.

 _News?_

 _H+D not here_

 _411?_

 _U OK?_

 _?_

 _No D_

 _No H_

Adrian didn't know what was going on outside his bedroom door but decided to take the opportunity now that he was alone. He performed a Locking Charm on the door before using his coin to contact Ginny.

 _Mirror_ , he had written and sat on his bed waiting for it to light up. When it did he wasn't surprised to find more than just Ginny's face in it.

"Where are they?" Charlie asked impatiently.

"They weren't at the portkey drop off point and we haven't been able to get them on their coins." Bill piled on.

"Was there a fight?" Padma questioned.

Adrian felt exhausted listening to them already. Draco was a bloody trooper.

"I talked to Draco a couple of hours ago. Considering the mess, they're both okay."

"The mess?" Ginny asked tentatively. Adrian nodded.

"I don't know how, and I don't know why, but Draco and Hermione ended up in Gorgie after a narrow escape from Malfoy Manor."

"Gorgie… Dorea," Arthur said with concern. "Is she alright?"

Adrian frowned. "I wish I could say otherwise, but no. She's dead."

There were gasps and muffled sobs in the mirror. Adrian felt sad with them, but he didn't pity them one bit. They weren't the ones who had to watch Dorea get her throat sliced open.

"What else happened in Gorgie?"

"It was me and a bunch of Deatheaters –Bellatrix included." He explained. "I guess Dorea had gotten to Draco and Hermione because Deatheaters were inside her pub. I ran inside and they were still there, pinned to the wall by Bellatrix."

"And they got away?" Angelina said in surprise. Adrian took a moment to smile.

"A bit of wandless magic and a weak ceiling certainly made a good distraction."

"Brilliant," Dennis said with approval. "Where are they now?"

"Dalry. I just hope they make it to the portkey before nightfall. That's when the real search begins and considering I'm on the 'search and detain team' with Blaise, I don't know how much help I'll be."

Ginny tilted her head some. "Blaise? As in _Zabini?_ Well, that's not very good. He's best mates with Malfoy, isn't he? That means he knows him well –well enough to predict his moves."

"Most likely," Adrian frowned bitterly. "But, on the other hand, Draco's moves are tied with yours. Blaise can't find you. So long as it stays that way then finding him or Hermione will be impossible."

"Unless Zabini finds out about you." Percy said grimly. "You're the last link between You-Know-Who and the resistance now. You have to be careful."

"I will, I promise. I'll-" Adrian stopped talking abruptly and stared at his door. "I've got to go. We'll talk Thursday if not sooner."

Adrian didn't wait for a reply and turned the mirror off. He slipped it under his mattress quickly before undoing the Locking Charm. No sooner than he had, without knocking, Blaise came right into his room. Adrian had lain down, making it as though he hadn't moved from bed yet. Regardless he sent a scowl his way and sat up.

"What do you want, Zabini?" Adrian barked at him. "I was hoping to sleep in today."

"Not when you're on a search team you're not." Blaise told him. "We've got work to do."

"Work? You've got a lead already?"

"No, but I will. We're going to rip Draco's room bare until we find something, so get up."

Blaise left Adrian's room while the other man frowned. They were going to search Draco's room. Was there anything there that would actually give something for Blaise to go off of?

Adrian cursed. "Bleeding hell,"

* * *

The Disillusionment Charm would only last for so long. Draco and Hermione had abandoned their apartment and leaned against the brick wall of the building as they checked out their predicament. Snatchers were everywhere, but Draco's father was nowhere in sight. They needed him for their plan to work.

"Where do you think he'd be?" Hermione whispered, sucking in some air when a Snatcher suddenly walked past them.

"I don't know." Draco admitted unwillingly, but he let his wand slip from his sleeve and urged Hermione to follow him into the alley. "Let's see if any of them knows."

Draco was more interested in keeping people out of his head rather going into others'. That said, he knew his Legilimency was weak, but it would have to do. And from at a distance too. He took a deep breath and raised his wand. It was aimed at a Snatcher across the street from them.

"Legilimens,"

He shifted through image after image looking for recent ones of his father. It was choppy at best. Fuzzy too. He was hardly able to see anything, but wisps of blond hair and landmarks. Soon he felt his arm being lowered and he blinked his eyes rapidly.

"Stop," Hermione said urgently. "You're hurting him and people are noticing."

Draco finally realized what she was talking about. He must've been digging around too hard because the Snatcher was standing still with his hand on his head. A few other Snatchers had come to him as well.

"Did you find out anything?"

"Fragments," Draco told her. "But enough. We need to find Peach Street, and a building with a falcon on the front."

"Okay, let's find out where we're going then." Hermione took out her wand and held it in her palm of her hand. "Direct me. Peach Street."

They waited for the wand to stop its spins and once they knew which direction they were going Draco grabbed her by the wrist, leading the way and they both ran for it. The last thing they needed was for their Disillusionment Charms to wear off in the middle of the street. _That_ would be a fun thing to happen in a town full of Snatchers.

"Direct me." Hermione said again once they entered into another alley. "We're getting close. My wand is getting warm. It should be – _humph!_ What are you do-?"

Draco had suddenly raised his hand, aiming for what he hoped was her face in an effort to cover her mouth. It was kind of hard, to say the least, considering that he couldn't see her, but eventually he did. Not, however, in time to prevent a Snatcher that was passing the alley from stopping and wondering what the noise was.

"Is there a problem?"

Both Draco and Hermione froze.

"I thought I heard something, Mr. Malfoy."

"Did you really?"

Lucius came into the alley's view and he gave it a good stare. There was nothing for him to see, thank Merlin, but that didn't stop him from wearing a quizzical expression.

"What did you hear?" Lucius demanded. The Snatcher swallowed.

"A woman's voice. But, as you can see, obviously no one's here. I must've imagined it."

"Or perhaps you're just too busy seeing instead of listening."

Draco, who still with a hand over Hermione's mouth, slowly began moving them backwards. His father and the Snatcher had entered the alley, both with wands drawn and listening intently. The younger blond hoped beyond hope that neither he nor his brunette stepped on anything that would give them away like a twig or a discarded piece of trash.

Luck was _not_ on their side.

One of them had stepped on something that had made an unmistakable noise and spells started flying. It was the Snatcher. He started firing spells wildly and Draco and Hermione split apart. They leaned against opposite walls of the alley, trying to avoid getting hit, but they couldn't stay there. Hermione took out her wand and began combatting spells –an invisible person holding the wooden instrument and blocking spells as best she could.

"You fool!" Lucius snarled as he pushed the Snatcher out of the way and raised his wand. "Finite Incantatem!"

Hermione was visible now and Lucius' face, quite honestly was indiscernible. The Snatcher's, however, wasn't and he was ready to kill Hermione on the spot. Draco lifted the Disillusionment Charm from off of him and aimed his wand at the Snatcher before the killing curse could leave his lips.

"Stupefy!"

The Snatcher crumpled. Draco turned his wand on his father, but the elder Malfoy raised his hands out in front of him.

"Draco, wait!"

And damn it, he did. It was only for a split second, but he _actually_ paused his actions at his father's request. But not Hermione. She flicked her wand at Lucius and he was bound within a second, his wand dropping to the ground.

"Draco, check and see if anyone's in this building." Hermione said, her wand still aimed at Lucius who was struggling against his binds. "We shouldn't do this here in case someone heard all the noise we made."

Lucius' eyes went wide. "Shouldn't do _what_ here?"

Hermione smirked. "Nervous?" She chuckled. "Don't worry. It's not death. Not _yet_ anyway."

Draco ignored her words as he called for his father's fallen wand and he headed towards the door he knew she was talking about within the alley. Something felt wrong about this. Was it really like Hermione said before about him hesitating? Was that _really_ what this was? Or was it something else?

"Bring him." Draco told her. "But take care of the Snatcher first."

Hermione nodded. She made the Snatcher's body invisible because they would need him later. If he turned up dead, it would only cause problems that they couldn't deal with at the moment. She used a spell to pull Lucius along and, surprisingly, he didn't fight it. Once they were all inside he was set on the floor, a sticking charm keeping him rooted.

"Alright," she turned to Draco. "Do it."

"Don't." Lucius told them both before looking directly at Draco. "Whatever it is you're about to do, _don't_. Not until we talk."

 _Not until we talk?_ _What exactly was his father playing at?_

Draco gave a side-glance at Hermione who was looking just as confused and wary as he. They didn't have time for this. Someone was going to notice his father's absence soon and they couldn't afford a horde of Snatchers on the lookout.

"Why should we listen to anything you have to say?" Hermione asked.

Lucius egged her on. "Legilimency. Use it on me and find out for yourselves."

Hermione certainly hadn't been expecting that. She looked back at Draco who hadn't taken his eyes off of the man he'd known all of his life. And this man… This man was sending his head in all sorts of directions. Without any prompting Draco raised his wand and pointed it at his father's head.

"Legilimens,"

It was better this time around than the first because he knew his father's head. But even then, Draco was conflicted. He was seeing images –clear ones, but not ones that should've belonged to him. There were rooms his father never went in. Activities that his father never did. And then that's when he saw it. A scene in a bathroom in front of a mirror, and Draco lowered his wand and his eyes went wide.

" _Mother?_ "

Hermione's mouth dropped. " _What?_ "

Lucius, or Narcissa in his form rather, nodded. Draco would've dropped his wand completely had he not needed some sort of anchor to hold onto for this revelation.

"What did you do to Father?"

"Silenced, stunned, and bound him to chair at home." Narcissa said simply, then she laughed when she saw her son's shocked expression. "Don't be so surprised, Draco. Sometimes I think you forget that I share blood with Bellatrix-"

Draco grimaced.

"-and on top of that I've been a Malfoy for years. I'm more dangerous than I look –which I admit works well to my advantage."

He scoffed. "I'd say so."

Draco swallowed and proceeded to undo his mother's binds as well as the Sticking Charm. He saw Hermione's face twist in alarm at this, but she didn't know his mother. She didn't know that his mother could be counted upon as an ally.

"What are you doing here?"

"I had to come in your father's stead." Narcissa explained. "When I heard about what happened with you and Miss Granger I knew that I _had_ to help you somehow. I couldn't just let you…" She sighed, obviously trying to compose herself. It was odd, honestly, since she still looked like his father. "Your father said that he was going to be stationed here today so I immediately took action.

'Your father puts much too much faith in me and so stunning him was easy. I've ordered Delilah to keep watch on him and to keep him unconscious for several days. I didn't think that I would run into you so quickly, if at all." Narcissa smiled. "Now tell me. What was it that you were planning to do to your father?"

Draco felt an enormous shred of guilt overcome him. Sensing this, Hermione took a tentative step forward and cleared her throat.

"We wanted to Imperius him. We have to leave here and we can't very well do it with a bunch of Snatchers about. He would've distracted them for us and led them away."

"Very well," Narcissa said readily. "Where do you want them to go?"

Draco stiffened. "Mother, you're not leading them anywhere."

" _Yes_ , I am. I came here to help and I'm going to do just that."

"And then you'll be tortured because the Snatchers can't find us."

"Correction, your _father_ will be tortured because they can't find you. I'll make sure of that."

Draco groaned angrily and yanked on his hair, "What makes you think it'll be that simple?! And what if your Polyjuice Potion wears off? What then?"

"I have more."

"What if you can't sneak a sip then?" He countered with a scowl. "There are too many variables to take in account for. Too many that could _kill_ you."

"And there were just as many variables _if not more_ when you snuck into the Manor to get Miss Granger out." Narcissa argued. She took a deep and walked forward to place her hands on his shoulders. "People do many things for the ones they love, Draco. This, right now, is what I choose to do for you. Please let me help you."

Draco felt paralyzed. He felt broken and lost and he didn't know how to take it all apart. He couldn't let his mother do this. The odds of her coming out of this alive were… They were just bad. Very, very bad. Tears tickled his eyes and he closed them to prevent water from building any further.

With a weak voice he said, "We need everyone to be as far away from the border into Merchiston as possible."

Narcissa nodded. "Done." She turned to Hermione and said with a small, grim smile, "Take care of him."

Hermione could feel the sadness in the air as she robotically nodded in agreement. Narcissa pulled Draco into a hug and she kissed him on the forehead.

"If anyone can bring the Dark Lord to his knees, it's you."

Draco didn't have a reply to that. He merely gave his mother his father's wand, and with one last look she left the building as well as the alley altogether.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Twists, twists, and more twists! *sigh* A mother's love never fails...

-WP


	33. Safety

Draco's bedroom looked like a shrine. Everything so neatly placed. Everything so _neat_ , period. One would think that he would be coming back at any moment's notice, but Adrian knew better. He just hoped that he and Hermione had made it to the portkey already and were far from here.

"Be thorough." Blaise told everyone after they'd entered. "Draco wouldn't have hidden anything of value out in the open."

"Shouldn't be too hard to find." Goyle said. He smirked and then added, "Pansy's seen this room so many times she must know it by heart."

Pansy scoffed, but she didn't deny his accusation. Instead she set to work. Adrian headed to the bookshelf and began blindly pulling books. He would flip through one, toss it to the floor, and then grab another. After that he went to Draco's bed, shredding it carelessly because he knew nothing was there. Well, nothing but his knives. He smiled to himself when he heard Goyle yelp in pain as his hand got cut by one.

 _Good._

When Adrian got up on his feet his heart froze when he saw Daphne by Draco's drawers. _Did he take it with him?_ He swallowed nervously as he went over to the other chest of drawers and began searching through it just the same. He kept glancing over at her to see if she had found it or if he could spot first.

"Keep your bloody eyes to yourself." Daphne snapped at him. Her coarse tone struck Adrian by surprise, but he cleared his throat to cover himself and continued digging through Draco's clothes.

"Sorry. You just...look a little tense."

They both dove into quiet for a bit. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that Daphne wasn't really searching at all –just haphazardly flipping pieces of clothing left and right.

"I'm sorry about Astoria." Adrian said after a while. And he meant it. It was _him_ who had knocked her unconscious. Only Merlin knew what had happened to the witch after he, Draco, and Hermione had split up. "Is no one really looking for her?"

"No." Daphne replied sourly. "They… No one cares. My sister's been missing for days and _no one_ cares. Will anyone care if _I_ wind up missing or dead?"

Adrian frowned. "I'm sure someone will."

Daphne snorted and shook her head. " _Right._ And I'll sprout wings and fly to the moon-"

"I'm serious, Daphne. Out of this whole mess there has to be at least one person who cares about you. I mean, look at Fiona." He said a bit sadly. "Her mother and uncle were terrible people, but there's still someone who misses her."

All of Daphne's anger fled from her in that instant and gave way to sympathy. She looked down at her feet for a moment before saying, "You really liked her, didn't you?"

"I loved her."

"You must hate Blaise then."

"It's war. I hate everyone."

"You and I have something in common then."

"I found something!" Came Tracey's voice. Adrian looked over and his heart sank.

Draco's journal. He had moved it from its primary hiding place and stuck it in a slit in the chaise's cushions. Blaise walked over and took the journal from her.

"Good work," he congratulated as he flipped it through. "But this is only step one. The Charm still has to be broken."

"Charm?" Tracey asked as she looked over at the pages. "What Charm?"

"Not sure yet, but there is one. Draco's always been a paranoid git. I'll crack it and then we can find out what he's been hiding."

"But we know that already." Goyle grumbled. "It's been the mudblood all this time!"

"And he was also working with Fiona." Blaise pointed out. "Do you really think that he wasn't working with others? Don't forget that Draco was with us during Granger's first escape with that other resistance member. Someone _had_ to have helped and this," he tapped the journal, "will tell me who."

Blaise smiled and gave a passing look at everyone before he left. His stare had settled onto Adrian the longest and it unsettled him. Adrian didn't need to break the Confundus Charm on Draco's journal to know who may or may not have been mentioned. Surely Georgie, Andy, and Gavin were in there. And that meant they were all in _serious_ trouble.

* * *

"Draco, we have to go."

Draco turned to Hermione who was standing by the door. He had been rooted to the spot, barely noticing the passing forms of several Snatchers as they ran by their hiding spot to chase whatever lie his mother had told to help them escape. He gave a shuddered sigh and closed his eyes.

"The Order will save your mother."

Draco snapped his eyes open. "What?"

"I promise." Hermione said earnestly. "The Order won't let your mother die."

"Granger… I know you're the resistance's special favorite and all, but I doubt they'll follow you on that one. The Weasley girl didn't even want me coming to the base with you."

"And yet here you are."

He started to scoff, but he let it die in his throat when Hermione held onto his arm. "I keep my promises. Now come on, we really do have to go."

Draco fought down any residual feelings he had about leaving his mother like this and reapplied the Disillusionment Charm. They left the building carefully and went left. It took them about five minutes to get from where they were and into Merchiston. It took about the same amount of time to find the house with the portkey. It took them less than a minute to set their eyes on it. There were no Snatchers to speak of. No Deatheaters. No threats. Just...nothing. It was all so easy and so simple and it made Draco want to throw a tantrum because of how good they had it. And at what expense? The life of another?

"The portkey isn't working."

Sometime during his lost thoughts Hermione had taken his hand and put both it and hers on the portkey. Draco sighed and pulled out his wand.

"It's incantation-activated."

Hermione watched as he placed the tip of his wand on the portkey and muttered unrecognizable words. Once he had finished the portkey glowed. Soon they felt their bodies tug through the air and their surroundings change. When they finally landed harshly on their backs, Draco hadn't a clue where he was. All he saw was nothing but hills reminiscent of Edinburgh Castle. Hermione, though, seemed intimately familiar with the repetitive-looking place and she smiled broadly as tears prickled her eyes.

"We're safe." She breathed happily. "We're finally safe."

"I don't know." Draco said as he rose to his feet and helped her up. "Being out in the open like this I feel like an enormous target."

Hermione smiled. "Alright, so we could be saf _er_ , which we will be. We'll be at the base soon, just follow me."

Draco did as she said (having no choice, really) and trailed behind her. Everything looked ridiculously the same to him, but Hermione crossed between hills as though there were signs directing her where to go. Perhaps there were. They must've walked for a full fifteen minutes before they halted their steps. Three people had come out of nowhere with their wands drawn and Draco wondered just how much of this was routine or simply because he was with her.

"What did we do for Christmas in 1998?" Bill asked.

Hermione raised her chin and answered, "We made ornaments with photographs of all of our fallen friends and hung them on our tree. Needless to say, it wasn't a particularly happy Christmas."

Bill looked over to his father and Arthur sighed. He was the first to lower his wand as he smiled. "I'm glad that you made it back. After we spoke to Adrian we were worried."

"You had the right to be. It wasn't very easy getting to that portkey." Hermione turned to Draco then and grinned. "But we did, and I have Draco to thank for that."

All three men glanced at each other and Charlie was the last to let his wand fall to his side after Bill.

"Fiona had said you were taking care of her." Charlie said to Draco. "Glad to know that you did it right." He swallowed and turned his gaze to Hermione. "I really am sorry about-"

"It's fine. I'm better-"

"You _were_ better." Draco cut her off. "You still have recovering to do."

Worry etched into the Order members' faces as they visually searched Hermione for injuries that they should be seeing. The brunette rolled her eyes at the overprotective bunch and took a step forward.

"Can we head inside? We really shouldn't be out here for very long."

Arthur nodded and stretched out his hand. "Let's go then."

Hermione slipped her hand in his and then latched her other hand onto Draco's wrist. He was on the verge of complaining seeing as he was a big boy and could follow other people in a line just fine. However, he spotted a hand seemingly jetting out in midair which Charlie took. He, in turn, held out for his brother's, who held out for his father's. Draco felt utterly ridiculous –as though he was five years old, but at least it was Hermione to be holding onto him like this.

Once inside he was smiling because there was actually one person he was okay with seeing.

"Johnson," he greeted. He was nearly knocked off his feet as the woman gave him a strong, one-armed hug. Her other arm was in a sling. "Bleeding hell, woman!"

Angelina pulled back and grinned broadly at him. "After everything you've done and gone through, you get hugs from me. Got it?"

"Yes, yes, alright," Draco half-scowled. "I don't remember you being so touchy-feely."

"It's war." She shrugged. "Not a time to get stiff."

"So he gets a hug and I don't?" Hermione teased. Angelina laughed and leaned in for a hug as well.

Draco watched the exchange as he heard more people coming their way. The other Weasley brother was there now, Dennis, Dean and Seamus, one of the Patil twins (he couldn't remember which this one was), and the Weasley girl who, despite being young, seemed to run the show around here. She was the last to hug Hermione and when she set her eyes on Draco she couldn't help but chuckle.

"Malfoy, you are dangerously suicidal –but in a good way. Thanks for bringing her back."

Draco, not used to praise from _any_ of these people, shrugged modestly. "I couldn't let her die."

Ginny's eyes flickered with something, but she didn't comment. She merely glanced over at Hermione who had been more than happy to stare at the wall. Oddly enough, Angelina had done the same.

"We should get them to the infirmary." Charlie suggested. "Malfoy said that Hermione was hurt."

"Okay," Ginny nodded and turned to Padma. "Can you take them there and look them over-?"

"No!" Both Hermione and Draco shouted. It caught everyone by surprise –even them themselves at how adamant they were. Hermione cleared her throat and decided to take the reins on this.

"We're fine, honestly. We've been running constantly since Malfoy Manor and what we really need is just rest."

Charlie furrowed his brow. "But Malfoy said that you needed to recover-?"

"And I can recover with rest." Hermione insisted with a smile. "Malfoy over-exaggerates sometimes. _Don't you?_ "

Draco swallowed, looked over at Charlie and inclined his head. "Rest is fine."

The second eldest Weasley brother scratched his head, but eventually conceded. "If you say so. I guess I can escort you to your room, Hermione."

"Even though I already know where it is?" She grinned. "Alright,"

"And I'll show you to your room, Malfoy." Ginny said. Draco tried to hold in his surprise, but it was hard. It wasn't that he thought he'd be sleeping on the floor. After everything he'd done for these people he'd damn well better not be. It was just the eagerness with which she'd said it. His suspicion kicked into overdrive as he left Hermione's side for the first time in hours. It felt...odd, to say the least, and he didn't quite like it.

What he also didn't like was how the redhead kept "sneaking" peeks at him as he followed her down various corridors. After the possibly tenth glance from the corner of her eye he groaned.

"Your lack of subtlety is atrocious." Draco grumbled. "It's no wonder you haven't been captured yet."

Ginny abruptly stopped walking and turned to face him. "What's going on with you and Hermione?"

Draco's brows nearly shot off of his head. "Excuse me?"

"If I'm wrong, then I'm sorry." She continued. "But if I'm not, then you have no business liking her."

" _Excuse me?_ " He said again except with a bit more bite. Ginny, however, didn't back down and stared him in the eye. A considerable feet seeing as he was a head taller than her and then some. "Who I may or may not like is none of your concern."

" _Yes,_ it is. Especially if it's you."

Draco's eyes narrowed to slits, but before a scathing reply could come out of his mouth Ginny said something to take the anger right out of him.

"It's not because I don't like you." Ginny sighed. "You've proven yourself ten times over since you've been helping us for me to dislike you. It's just...things could end badly, Malfoy. Hermione's already a little-"

Draco regarded her uneasily. "A little what?"

"I have a feeling you know what. I just don't want her to get hurt or worse."

Draco was absolutely _dying_ to keep this to himself, but he hated the way she was looking at him and wanted her to stop. And so, he took a deep breath, pinched the bridge of his nose and said, "I would never hurt her."

"You yourself might not." Ginny said. "But your death would."

Draco let his hand fall as he stared at her wide-eyed. "What?"

"When Hermione cares about someone, it runs deep. Just... _think_ before anything happens, alright?"

"No need to worry your red head about that." Draco replied solemnly. "I've already decided not to let anything happen between us again."

"Good, that's– Wait," Ginny froze. " _Again?_ What do you mean _again-?_ "

"Show me to my room, Weasley. I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours."

* * *

"Are you sure you're alright, Hermione?" Charlie asked as they walked. "You look a little out of sorts-"

"Where's Ron?" She asked. Charlie's face softened when she asked and her gaze fell to the floor. Hermione felt ashamed, honestly, that she hadn't thought of him before now. Although, facing imminent death would definitely limit one's thoughts to certain things. But now that she was here, roaming through the halls, it had occurred to her that Ron was here too. He was _here_ , alive, and in the same place as her.

"We're passing his room."

Hermione turned her head to the direction that Charlie was pointing. They had just turned a corner and were slowly making their way past a door on their left. A hard swallow escaped her because her room was at the other end of the hall. Ron was…so close. Closer than he'd been to her in years. She wanted to see him, she did, but the thought of doing so scared her more than she'd care to admit.

"Malfoy told me about what he did to him." She said as they cleared his room. "How is he now that the curse is gone?"

"It's…hard to describe." Charlie answered her. "He recognizes us, which is good. We were worried about that. However, he's a bit confused. A sense time seems to be gone from him. He doesn't realize where he is or _when_ he is sometimes."

Hermione frowned and glanced back down the hall once they had reached her room. "Does he ever leave his room at all?"

"Sometimes. Mostly it's just for meals. We actually encourage him to stay in there because-"

" _Stay in there?_ Charlie, he needs to interact with people. To interact with-"

"Hermione, you don't understand." Charlie shook his head sadly. "Ron still thinks that the Battle of Hogwarts was _this year_ , for Merlin's sake. To just dump him back into reality would traumatize him."

Hermione bit her lower lip before sighing deeply. "I get it. I really do, but he's been trapped for two years now. I think he's earned the right not to be trapped anymore."

"But-"

"I'm not saying to bombard him with everything all at once." She continued. "A desensitization of sorts."

Charlie sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I suppose. Did you want to see him now?"

Hermione was in front of her door now and she glanced back where Ron was. She shook her head and placed her hand on her doorknob. "I really do need that rest. Tonight maybe?"

"Or perhaps dinner? He'll be there too. Meals, remember?"

"Oh, right..." she said softly, a feeling of utter anxiousness overtaking her.

* * *

Despite knowing that he needed the rest, Draco couldn't sleep. He had managed to coax where Hermione's room was out of the redheaded female before she left because he had a feeling that a need to see her would arise.

And he hated himself for it.

Distance used to be easy. Now it was bloody impossible. After several failed attempts at whisking himself away to dreamland, Draco grunted, got up from bed, and left his bedroom. He murmured the youngest Weasley's directions under his breath as he went along and took in his surroundings as he did so. White walls. White floors. Nothing very discernable about the place with the exception of moving photographs on the walls. Photographs, Draco realized, of those who were dead. It was how he was maneuvering around the place actually since that's how his directions had been given.

 _A right at Lavender's photo. A left at Professor McGonagall. A short left at George…_

Draco was ever thankful that none of these photographs were like the ones at Hogwarts. Each one would probably be spewing curses at him for defiling the resistance's base with his Deatheater-ness.

As he made it to Hermione's room he began to feel a bit inconsiderate for the fact that although _he_ was currently incapable of sleeping, that _she_ might be. However, something was bothering him about their entry into her world, and he had to hash it out. So, he knocked and it sounded much louder than he would've liked. Ever paranoid, Draco looked cautiously around. He wondered what someone would say if they saw him outside of her door. If he was asked what he was doing there, what answer would he give? That he just wanted to see her? For what? –they would ask, because simply wanting to be around her _although he should be fighting that impulse_ wouldn't be a sufficient answer. Downright ridiculous, perhaps.

Hermione opened her door without answering and was neither surprised nor pleased to see him there. Draco would've preferred an expressive face rather than a neutral one. Without saying anything she opened the door wider.

"You're not sleeping." She said simply.

Draco couldn't help himself and smirked in his very Malfoy way. "Very astute of you. Are you going to tell me that my hair is blond next?"

A roll of her eyes was sent his way as she left the doorway. At least Draco could take solace in the fact that she was smiling.

"Did you tell Adrian that we made it?"

Draco nodded. "I don't know if he read the message, but at least it was sent. You people live well considering being out on the run." He added randomly.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know why you're surprised. You saw our last base."

"Yes," Draco nodded as he slipped himself inside the room. "But this one you had to build in a record amount of time. Makes it even more impressive."

She thought for a moment and gave a gentle nod. "I suppose so."

They got quiet then. Draco took a moment to survey her room, which in all honesty looked very much like his except it held more books. He did this until he could no longer bridle his tongue.

"I know why I stopped you from going to the infirmary." He told her. "What was your excuse?"

Hermione, who had suddenly found the need to organize her bookshelf, stopped and turned to face him. "For the same reason as you, I expect." She took a deep breath, her arm going up the one with the slur and staying there. "No one needs to know what's written on my arm."

"You mean no one needs to know that you're mine."

She started at him, smiled a little, and shrugged. "You would've had to asked me to be yours first, no?"

Draco inclined his head. "Touché,"

Hermione nodded in agreement and went back to looking busy with her books. Perhaps this was his cue to leave, but Draco didn't take it. Instead he swiftly used wandless magic to look her door and went to stand beside her.

"...You're never going to ask me to be, are you?" She questioned him.

"...No. At least not anytime soon."

"Then what are you doing?"

What _was_ he doing? That was, by far, an excellent question. Draco had already made it up in his mind _not_ to pursue this woman. To distance himself. He'd told the female Weasley as such. But as it currently stood he was dangerously close behind her –so much so that his breath moved the little hairs on the back of her neck.

"I still want you, Granger." _Damn it, I'm going to regret this._

Hermione felt her breath hitch as Draco's lips found their way to the back of her neck. She couldn't help the motions of her head as it leaned slightly to the right which gave him more access to it. He didn't miss the opportunity and soon he was splattering kisses with the accompaniment of his tongue. She was lost within it until his hands came up and wrapped around her waist.

"Oh no," she said as she shrugged him off and turned around in his arms. "You do _not_ get to do that. You can't want me and _not_ want me at the same time-"

Draco swooped in and kissed her, his tongue entering her mouth after a quick bite of her bottom lip parted her own to let him in. He broke the kiss off abruptly and placed his lips by her ear.

"Clearly you don't understand." He whispered, going so far as to nibble her ear. "I don't want a relationship, no. That doesn't mean that I don't want you. There's a difference."

Hermione scoffed. "That sounds like a recipe for casual sex."

"So what if it is?" He asked with his nose nuzzling her neck. "War and relationships are _not_ a good idea, Granger." _They're not. They're bloody horrible. And distancing myself obviously had a short-term life expectancy. But if it says like this, what's the harm, right?_

Hermione had to bite down on her tongue as his hands gripped her hips and pressed himself against her. It took a _great_ deal of effort for her to get her next set of words out.

"I don't do _casual_ anything."

Draco smirked onto her chest (which was where his lips had travelled to) and looked up into her eyes. "Think back on the three times you were intimate with me and try saying that again."

Hermione could scold herself silly for _actually_ thinking about it. And damn it he was right. Well, about the first two times anyway. The last one –the night that they had gone all the way and slept together –that, to her at least, had been different. It wasn't just lust there. There had been... _more._ And Draco knew that. She _knew_ that he did or else the R-word wouldn't scare him so much. And, if she was honest with herself, she wasn't quite ready to jump into a relationship either. She just didn't want to feel like a personal play thing.

But then again...Draco would be hers too, wouldn't he?

"A commitment without the commitment." Hermione found herself saying. It was supposed to be in her head, but it slipped out of her mouth easily enough for Draco to hear.

"Well said," he nodded, kissed her once, and then leaned back from her. "I should get going."

"Going?"

"If you're not ready to show anyone your arm, it's probably best that it doesn't look like I came from your bedroom should someone swing by."

"I suppose so." She agreed. Then she smiled mischievously and added, "Such a shame that you locked my door for no reason."

Draco was caught off guard and it showed. "You saw me do that?"

"No, but thanks for confirming."

Draco laughed and shook his head at her. He took one look at the door, another at her, and then decided that it was worth pushing his luck. "It doesn't have to be for nothing."

Hermione had been walking over to her bed (a bad move considering what he'd just said) and stopped. "Dinner starts in twenty minutes."

"I can do a lot in twenty minutes."

Hermione suppressed her grin. "I'm supposed to be 'recovering.' Your words."

"And I think we've proven that I can get around that." Draco said as he also silenced the room.

He walked over slowly and Hermione breathed deeply in anticipation for what was going to happen. She moved to sit down, but Draco caught her before she made it to the bed.

"There's no need for you to sit." He told her and then added in a cheeky tone that only he could muster, "I'll go down."

* * *

 **Author's note:** They made it to the base! Thank Merlin! And I think Draco and Hermione (Draco more than either them) has some personal/emotional issues to work out lol.

-WP


	34. Invincible

Draco had made those twenty minutes worth it. There had even been time to spare. Time for Hermione to sit on the edge of her bed with her nails between her teeth and feeling her anxiety levels rise to dangerous levels. Draco was sure that she'd bite her hand off soon and so he carefully plucked her hand away from her mouth and placed it on her lap.

"Have you seen him lately?" Draco asked. Hermione shook her head.

"Not since I was down in the dungeon, no. I just...what if he comes while I'm talking to him? Then what? Knowing my track record I won't be able to tell which one of them is real and, well, you remember what I did to your bedroom. For Merlin's sake, I almost killed you!"

"Don't carry your wand then. Easy fix."

Hermione scowled. "Malfoy-"

"What? No, 'Draco' anymore?"

Hermione snapped her mouth shut. No, no 'Draco' anymore. Not when they were going for that non-existent middle ground between relationship and no relationship. She sighed and fell back onto her bed.

"You should probably go." She told him after a short pause. "Dinner is in five minutes and, as you pointed out earlier, no one should see you coming out of my room."

If there was one thing that Draco hated, it was having his words spit back at him. However, to avoid what would _definitely_ turn into a fight, he dropped it and complied with the witch. He rose to his feet and almost made it to the door when he felt his pocket grow warm. He stopped and pulled out his coin to reveal the message that Adrian had sent him.

 _Journal_

Draco stood frozen, closed his eyes, and murmured a curse. That "murmur," however, was loud enough for Hermione to hear and she sat up.

"What? What's wrong?"

Draco turned to face her and held up his coin. "We have a problem."

* * *

Adrian had been on pins and needles _all day._ Dinner had come and gone and his nerves were still off the charts. He kept thinking about that journal. Blaise knew Draco, and that meant that he'd be able to crack the barrier that lay between him and the resistance _and_ their allies. Although the care for his life was very high on the list, he was worried about Georgie and Andy more. Gavin the most since he wasn't supposed to even be in Newington anymore.

That's why he was currently on his way to go see them. Aside from the fact that he still had to tell them about how Draco and Hermione made out, Adrian wanted to make sure that they were out of harm's way. Luckily tonight was most opportune. Seeing as Draco was gone all of his good liquor was up for grabs. Everyone was drowning themselves in the stuff which meant that no one of interest would be following (or care for that matter) that he wasn't there enjoying the "festivities."

Adrian breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped inside the pub. It took everything within himself to ignore Andy at the counter or to scowl in Georgie's direction. Neither of them would truly understand just how safe he felt here. He also felt sad because his original band of misfits weren't by his side. Back at Edinburgh Castle he was alone. A coin and a mirror were all he had that connected himself to his friends. And, sadly, nothing to Fiona except knowing that his coin used to be hers.

With a sigh he pounded down one drink, waited a while, and then trudged off to the loo where he darted down to the allies' secret haven. He didn't smile when he saw Gavin because he had _horrible_ news to give him.

"What's wrong?" Gavin immediately questioned. Adrian's throat felt dry, but he fought out his words anyway.

"Dorea's dead."

Gavin's world looked like it had shattered into a million pieces. Adrian understood completely. Although he wasn't a fuming volcano anymore, losing Fiona still hurt. At least Gavin could have a nightmare-less sleep considering that he didn't have to watch her die or see her body.

"How?" Gavin asked. His face was tear-streaked. "How did she die?"

"Who?" Came Georgie's voice full of concern. "Please, don't tell me that Hermione's?"

"Not Hermione," Adrian said. "Dorea,"

Georgie's face paled. His eyes immediately met Gavin's and he frowned. "Gavin, I'm-"

"How did she die?" Gavin asked again, this time his voice laden with anger. "Who killed her?"

"Ivan Greengrass. She was killed because she was protecting Draco and Hermione at the time."

"So they're alright?" Georgie asked eagerly. "They made it out?"

Adrian nodded. "It was hell on earth, but Draco sent me a message and said that they were fine. At least that's one thing off our list left to worry about."

Georgie grunted. "What else is on that list?"

Just then there was the sound of an alarm going off in the hideout. Both Georgie and Gavin began to panic. Adrian, on the other hand, merely braced himself and kept his eyes focused on the doorway.

"How can they be this close?" Gavin said as he took out his wand.

Georgie balled his fists. "I don't know. Merlin, I hope Andy's alright. How many do you think there'll be?"

"Just one," Adrian said calmly. Both men stared at him oddly, but neither said anything as the entrance to the hidey-hole opened. Adrian was the only person _not_ surprised to see Blaise. His wand had been ready as the other two, but he made sure to get his spell off first since he was the only one whose first thought _wouldn't_ be to kill him. Instead Blaise was bound with tight ropes and his wand summoned to Adrian's free hand.

"Hello, Blaise." Adrian said happily. "Let me know if the binds are too tight."

"What the hell, Adrian?!" Gavin shouted at him. "You _knew_ he was going to ambush us? Was this all some sort of _plan?_ "

"Don't go blaming me. It was all Draco's idea."

Blaise, who had been struggling the moment the ropes wrapped around him, stopped and blinked twice. " _Draco? Draco_ , told you to do _what_ exactly?"

"Lure you here, tie you up, and wipe your memories clean. Oh, and to make sure that you don't have _this._ " Adrian pulled out Draco's journal from the inside of his robes. Blaise was absolutely seething.

"You went into my room?" Blaise scowled. Adrian shrugged.

"You weren't there. Honestly I didn't think I'd be able to find it. I was just passing your room on my way to dinner and when I saw it was empty I just went in. Obviously you didn't care to hide it." He chuckled and then handed it to Georgie. "It's Draco's. He said to burn it."

"Yeah, alright." Georgie said with hesitance. "What exactly is it?"

"Draco's journal. Blaise would've broken the Confundus Charm on it eventually and then we'd all be dead. Our names are in it."

Gavin grunted. "Pretty sloppy move for Malfoy, having our names written there."

"It was safe if the average person found it." Adrian reassured before turning back to Blaise. "Unfortunately, he just knows him too well."

Blaise huffed. "Harboring mudbloods _and_ he has resistance allies, does he? I'm going to bloody kill him when I find him."

"You won't be finding him." Adrian said sternly. "Especially without havingany leads. That includes them-" he pointed to Georgie and Gavin. "And me. We'll wipe your memory far enough back to ensure that."

"That's all?" Gavin asked. "Why don't we just kill him? One less Deatheater to worry about."

"I want to, _believe me_ , but we still need him. I can't get any insider knowledge without him."

Blaise laughed. No, it was more a derisive snort as he looked on at his three captors. "Look at you, dancing in the mirth of murderous intent."

"What are you so smiley about?" Adrian sneered. "You're tied up and wandless for Merlin's sake."

"Oh, it's not the predicament that's got me like this." Blaise said cheekily. "I'm just wondering how Fiona would view you if she could see you now. Probably all torn up inside at how ruthless you've become. You were always a few hairs short of being a true Slytherin."

At hearing that Adrian felt something in him snap. He lunged forward before either Georgie or Gavin could pull him back and he had a fistful of Blaise's shirt. His wand was pointed right between his eyes.

" _Do_ _ **not**_ _speak for her._ " Adrian snarled. "She's dead, and you have no right."

Blaise, despite risking his chances of living, continued to smile as though there was no danger at all. "You offend me, Pucey. I would never speak on behalf of the dead. Especially if _I_ was the one to kill him or her."

"So you'd call what you just did...?"

"Speaking on behalf of the living."

Adrian's wand arm faltered for a half a second. In the other second he lowered it to Blaise's neck and pushed the tip in. A little further and sure enough he would be poking a hole through.

"Now, now, Pucey," Blaise teased. "We wouldn't want to go killing me without finding out where I stashed your _very alive_ girlfriend, hmm?"

"You're lying." Adrian accused. His voice, however, was less menacing than it had been before. It was scared and it was hopeful. And worse of all, Blaise knew it.

"Why would I lie? I'm trying to save my memories here, so why not use this precious piece of leverage?"

"Don't listen to him." Georgie said as he took a tentative step closer. "Fiona's dead. You told us that, Adrian. Besides, what would _he_ of all people get out of keeping her alive?"

"Excellent question!" Blaise sang. "Let me keep my memories and I'll tell you."

Adrian's heart was hammering in his chest. Was he lying or telling the truth? Was there a chance at all in this world that maybe, _just maybe_ , he hadn't killed Fiona at all and it was just a ruse? And if so, why? What was the point? Why would "I love being a Deatheater" Blaise Zabini risk his life for her?

Adrian's throat was drier than a desert and he removed his wand from Blaise's throat. Seconds later it was at his head and he was saying a spell he had never once used in his life.

"Legilimens!"

It was dangerous, to say the least, to use an advanced spell without proper practice. Double that danger when you were using that spell on someone else. _Triple it_ when you were angry, and scared, and heartbroken, and all you wanted were answers.

The world around him became dull background noise. He thought he heard screaming. Was that inside Blaise's head or was that for real? Probably the latter. Legilimency could hurt or even kill the person on whom it was being used. Considering this was Adrian's first time, the pain must've been excruciating.

And Blaise deserved it. Adrian hoped that it felt like hellfire times ten as he probed through the Italian's mind for anything that could lead him to the truth. To finally put to rest what the man had stirred in his chest only moments before. But it was hard. It was like navigating through a dense forest and he didn't know where to begin. How could he look for Fiona?

At her name the maze that was Blaise's mind rushed by him and he saw an image. Just one image. It wasn't wholly clear but he could spot Fiona by her walk alone. She was somewhere he didn't recognize. And, quite frankly, this memory could've been far in the past for all he knew. The only thing that gave him a bit of hope were the clothes that she wore. The last he had ever seen her in. Clothes that should've been burned to a crisp along with her body.

"Adrian! Adrian, look at me!"

Adrian didn't know it, but somewhere along the line he had fallen to the ground. He felt exhausted and disoriented and around his lips was… _wet?_ He brought a hand up to his upper lip and found blood. He was bleeding from the nose and Gavin was pressing a cloth to it.

"Are you alright?" He asked. Adrian nodded and his head hurt. Gavin sighed. "Good, now I can murder you! What the hell were you thinking? That could've killed you! And for all we know Zabini's dead! Not that I care much about that last bit, but all the same…"

Adrian blinked and tried to see past Gavin's body and at Blaise who was slumped in his chair against the ropes, his head hung back and bleeding from both his nose and ears.

"Nope, not dead." Georgie said after checking his pulse. "But he sure could've been if you had dug around in his mind a little longer. I hope you found out something good."

"I did." Adrian swallowed deeply. "Fiona's alive. I'm sure of it."

" _Sure?_ Like…really, _really_ sure?" Gavin asked as he helped Adrian to one of the beds. "I mean, you're not an experienced Legilimens. What if you just, I don't know, projected what you _wanted_ to see into his head? It's been known to happen-"

"I know what I saw, Gavin. I just need to find out where she is."

"Good luck getting Zabini to tell you." Georgie scoffed. "After nearly killing him I doubt he'll be cooperative."

"Don't bother. I'll figure it out on my own. Just wipe the necessary memories clean. Here," Adrian offered Georgie his wand but he shook his head and simply raised his hand.

"It's fine. I can do it without one."

"Seriously?"

"I've been without one for so long it's better this way. Although," Georgie said with a crooked grin. "Memory Charms _can_ be a bit messy. I might hurt him some more."

Adrian chuckled. "Good. Let him hurt. He deserves a bit of punishment for whatever he's done to Fiona and for what he did to Hermione. He's just lucky I didn't follow through on Draco's orders to kill him."

* * *

Dinner was cancelled with Adrian's message. No one was hungry at that point and instead assembled in one of their meeting areas to talk.

"Do you think he was able to do it?" Dean asked once they all sat down. Draco breathed a deep sigh and kept his eyes on his coin. He had put it on the middle of the table so he could see it the moment Adrian told him that the lure worked –or didn't.

"With Georgie and Gavin there it should've worked out." Draco said. "At least I hope. Blaise can be one sneaky and quick bastard when he's ready."

"Well, there's no point in thinking and guessing about what's going on." Ginny sighed dejectedly. "We'll only come up with theories to drive ourselves mad. Let's just get the debriefing done, yeah?" She turned to Hermione. "I know it may be hard to talk about, but-"

"It's fine." Hermione nodded. "We need to get through this anyway. While I was captured You-Know-Who had me looking for a way to track the Hallows."

Arthur's eyes (as well as everyone's) widened. "And… _did you?_ "

"I wish I did." The brunette frowned. "If I had we could've gotten them, not to mention found our way to Neville and Luna."

"No offence," Padma said. "But I'm surprised that you're still alive. You-Know-Who's not exactly known for his patience. He would've wanted an answer from you quickly."

"Well, he certainly wasn't happy with me." Hermione grimly chuckled. She let her hands roam over her arms, her fingers lightly grazing the slur on her arm. "I have to admit, though. I got a tad desperate towards the end. I… I lied to him. Told him that I had figured out a way to track the Hallows, giving him ingredients and all."

"That was… That was a pretty insane idea, Hermione." Percy commented with shock written on his face. She tried her best not to take the word "insane" to heart.

"I was trying to buy time is all. I had given him pretty obscure ingredients, but he had managed to get them to me anyway. I started mixing what I could and I made a pretty volatile concoction. It almost killed us both. Thank Merlin for Malfoy's epic timing."

"Adrian filled us in on what happened after that." Dean said somberly. "We're all devastated about Dorea. How you managed to finagle your way out of that _and_ Dalry is beyond me."

Hermione chuckled. "Would you believe me if I said that Malfoy's mother helped?" She smiled some at their surprised faces. "Long story short, she was the Polyjuiced version of Lucius and served as a distraction so that Malfoy and I could get away. I…" Hermione frowned and she took a moment to side-glance at Draco who was still staring at his coin, oblivious to the world. "I hope that she's alright."

"For someone who put her life on the line that like, I sure hope she's alright too." Angelina frowned.

"Hey, Hermione," Dennis interjected. "Back to Hallows for a moment. Did you find out _anything_ useful about them at all?"

Hermione shrugged. "I did come to my own conclusions about that whole master of death thing, but it's not what you think. It's nothing…superhuman or fantastical. It just makes you harder to kill."

Seamus snorted. "Like he isn't hard to kill already?"

Draco blinked at Seamus' words and for the first time since walking into the room he took his gaze off of his coin. "How does the Elder Wand work?"

"What do you mean? It's just a wand." Seamus answered. "A bloody powerful one, but-"

"But is that it? Can it do anything special?"

"Not that we know of." Angelina said. "Why?"

"Something happened at the Manor when I went to get Granger out." Draco explained. "I sort of… Well, I kind of shot the Killing Curse at him."

Gasps erupted all around the room.

"I was right." Ginny huffed. "You _are_ dangerously suicidal. You could be dead, Malfoy!"

"Spare me the lecture, Red." Draco rolled his eyes. "He doesn't have Horcruxes anymore and that makes him as mortal as any one of us. Granger was..." He sighed and looked over in Hermione's direction as she let her eyes fall to the floor. "The Dark Lord was going to kill her, so I did it. But the curse rebounded."

"It… _rebounded?_ " Dennis repeated in awe. "But… That's not possible!"

"Tell me about it." The blond grumbled. "But it did and Granger and I hauled our arses out of there as fast as we could. I don't want to think that he has another Horcrux hidden out there, but considering the circumstances..."

"Impossible," Bill shook his head. "We've watched him and his followers like hawks. If he made one we would've known about it."

"Hey, I've got one." Dean smiled. "Maybe You-Know-Who _himself_ is a Horcrux and he just doesn't know it." He chuckled. He, however, was the only person laughing. Once he realized it, he stopped immediately and gulped. "Merlin… You don't really think…?"

"He looked pretty damn surprised when my curse didn't kill him." Draco said, his face having grown incredibly pale.

"But... _but how?_ "

Hermione's eyes widened. "Harry,"

Everyone turned to her and she continued in a shaky tone.

"Think about it. If You-Know-Who's soul could latch onto Harry's when he was a baby, then why can't it happen again? Maybe...maybe Harry's soul just...clung onto You-Know-Who's since he was the closest living thing."

"It would explain what happened at Hogwarts then." Arthur said with a white face. "We had all wondered why the Elder Wand would kill Harry when it was meant to be his. I guess…if this is true…then the wand didn't kill him at all."

"And if he's not dead," Ginny said with a quivering voice. "Then…then maybe Harry can come back?"

Well then…that was the question, now wasn't it?

* * *

 **Author's note:** Dun, dun, dun! The biggest twist of them all, if I don't say so myself ;)

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Guest:** First and foremost, thanks for giving this a shot again! It's definitely a slow burn between our favorite pair! 33 chaps are A LOT to binge read so congrats on that front lol! I'm so happy that you like the story and the way I write. Honestly, I just LOVE writing. It's always been a passion of mine and I write all the time whether it's to clear my head or because an idea won't go away haha. I guess that's the reason why I post so much. I write too much :)


	35. Requests

After messaging Draco that everything worked out well, Adrian ended up hauling Blaise's unconscious form back to Edinburgh Castle and it had been…difficult. Levitating him the way would've drawn too much attention. But even if he had wanted to do that, it would've been impossible. Adrian still felt drained after his first try at Legilimency –emotionally _and_ magically. And so, Blaise was slung over his shoulder and made a very believable drunk who needed to be carted home by his friend.

Georgie had wiped away the essential memories. That meant no journal, no Georgie, and no memory of Gavin except that ambush at his shoppe and his interrogation by Voldemort. Unfortunately they had to keep his conversation with Theo as well as memories of Adrian and his sudden friendship with Draco. Those were known to everyone and if they were suddenly gone from Blaise it would rouse suspicion. Not to mention that Adrian had a feeling it was why Blaise had wanted him in his search party. Messing with that meant jeopardizing his role and gaining as much information as he could.

As he traversed the halls with the man over his shoulder, Adrian's thoughts were racing. He had so many questions, but he could ask Blaise none of it if he wanted him to remain in the dark about what he knew. His priorities, though, were clear: find out where Fiona was and get her out.

* * *

This possible revelation about Voldemort was staggering. It was so big that no one could sleep. It was currently one a.m. on a Tuesday and the entire resistance was buzzing with theories and what this could mean and how this could shape up the way the rest of this war was fought.

Everyone except Hermione that is. She had stolen herself away from the rest of the group and had been standing outside of Ron's room for the past half-an-hour. Every time she put her hand on the doorknob she retracted it as though her hand had been burned. She was scared. Terrified really. And it didn't help that she could hear her pseudo-Ron in her ear telling her that it was alright. Why couldn't he see that _he_ was making her uncomfortable?

As another ten minutes ticked by Hermione could feel tears prickling her eyes. She was seconds away from calling it off and attempting to see him in the morning when she felt someone at her back. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked softly.

"I… I don't know what's wrong with me." She replied sadly as she turned to face her. "I thought he was dead for the past two years. He's right here and I can't even face him."

"It's okay, you know. We were all a little weird to have him here. Still are, actually. And yes, he's a little confused, but in the end he's still the same Ron."

"I get that, I do. But that's not what's making me hesitant about going in there."

Ginny took the lapse in conversation to regard her friend. Hermione looked more than just hesitant. She looked scared out of her mind. She was completely out of sorts and reminiscent of that day when Seamus had done that psycho-test thing. Ginny wanted to ask about it, she did, but she knew that now wasn't the time. Not when her friend was already on edge as it was.

Instead she offered this: "Just...tell me what you need, Hermione. I'll try to help. I promise."

The brunette turned and her lips parted almost immediately. "Get me Malfoy."

Ginny's face faltered. "Malfoy? You...you want _Malfoy?_ "

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "Please don't take offence to this, but trust me when I say that he's the only one who can understand."

"Oh," the redhead said with a small frown. "I, sure… If that's what you want, then yes, I'll get him for you."

"Thank you."

Hermione was facing the door again and she could hear Ginny retreating. She wasn't sure how much longer she was standing in the hall, but soon Draco was beside her, sharing the silence.

"Weaslette said you wanted me."

"I can't go in there by myself. It would be the perfect time for my mind to go haywire."

"I was serious about leaving your wand. Did you?"

"I did."

"...Granger," Draco said hesitantly. "I understand why you want me in there with you, but do you think it wise? I mean… I was the one that Imperiused him in the first place. It might not go well in there."

"Well, I sort of figured it could go one of two ways. He could either hate you because you Imperiused him or hate you because he still thinks the war just started and you're a Deatheater. Either way, I think you're used to Weasleys hating you on sight."

"There _is_ a third option. And although it's not necessarily negative, the implications of it are."

Hermione looked at him with a quizzical expression. "What third option?"

"That he has no reaction to me at all. That he likes me. Wants to protect me. Because I was...his master."

Those last two words felt like bile on his tongue. The look of horror on Hermione's face didn't help either and she gulped loudly as she turned back towards the door. She hoped beyond hope that Ron was sleeping. It was plausible, considering the time of night, but as she turned the doorknob and stood on the threshold of the room, there he was. He was laying down on one of two beds, tossing a snitch in the air for amusement. Harry's snitch, Hermione realized. He stopped when he heard the door and sat up with speed when he realized who had come into his bedroom.

Hermione was at a loss for words. He looked everything like her subconscious pictured with the exception of a few more scars and a loss of weight. Not to mention the Dark Mark on his arm. It made her stomach clench that that... _thing_ was there to mar his flesh. Much like the "Draco's mudblood" that scarred her own.

What should she say? A simple "hello" wouldn't suffice. Aside from that, she didn't know what he knew or thought to be his present at the moment. Did he know that he'd been a prisoner for two years? What did he think of the Mark? Did he wonder why they weren't in London? Damn she should've asked someone this before coming here...

Ron opened his mouth first. "Harry's dead."

Tears built in her eyes almost immediately and they slid down her cheeks with little effort. She nodded and said, "Yes. Yes, he is."

"He died just before summer." Ron continued. "Bill told me."

Hermione kept her worried expression in check. She took a tentative step forward, thus revealing Draco who was following closely at her heels. Ron's eyes widened and he rose to his feet.

"What is _he_ doing here?"

Hermione glanced back at Draco who seemed to be bracing himself for whatever came next. The brunette took in the clenching of Ron's fists and said the first thing that came to her mind which, incidentally, was technically the truth.

"He's defected."

Ron blinked. "What? I… No one told me that."

"What were you told?"

"That I got hurt during the Battle of Hogwarts. That I've been asleep, wearing off the effects of some...curse."

"Oh," Hermione replied softly. "And what were you told about me?"

"That you got captured in a fight and they were trying to get you back. I've been worried about you."

Hermione's heart swelled within that moment and she suddenly ran towards him and into his arms. Ron reacted quickly, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly. He was telling her how terrified he was that something had happened to her. That he hoped every day since he'd woken up for her return. That he wished Harry was here so that they could all be together again. Hermione was half-listening. She could barely hear anything above the roar of her crying in her ears. This Ron… _This_ Ron was real. She couldn't hug her imagination. Despite how helpful he had been, he didn't smell like the real Ron either. This Ron made her feel sick to her stomach in the best way and she just wanted to stay there, in his arms, for however long time would allow.

She didn't even realize that Draco had left.

"We're never getting separated again, Ron." Hermione said as she pulled away to look into his face –his smiling, blue-eyed face. " _Never_ _again_."

Ron nodded, and for the first time since their encounter Hermione wanted to recoil. His hand had caressed her face. It was...affectionate. _Too_ affectionate and much too intimate considering her prior (and some very recent) exploits with Draco. It shouldn't have mattered, honestly, considering that she and the blond weren't making a commitment, but that was only what her head said. Her heart, chest, and stomach were telling her that she was being dishonest.

Hermione sighed, swallowed, and put some distance between them, but not enough to make the whole exchange awkward. In this way she had caught the Dark Mark on his arm up close and it made her bitter.

"Did anyone tell you how you got that?" She asked him. Ron scrunched his brows together.

"Got what?"

"That. The Mark."

"Oh, you mean my scar." Ron said. Hermione thought that was an odd thing to call it although it was, indeed, a scarring of the skin. "Dad told me it happened during the fight I can't remember."

Hermione couldn't mask her confusion now. "The fight…? Ron, what are you…?"

But she stopped talking. As she looked down at the Dark Mark and stared closely enough, she could finally spot some shimmering. It was like a glossy coat, and then that's when she knew. Someone had cast a charm on his arm to keep him from seeing it. It was a smart move, if she was being honest, but only delaying his inevitable reaction.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"I'm tired."

Hermione nodded. Although her body didn't feel it, her eyes sure did, and then she remembered that it must've been past two in the morning by now.

"Okay. You should get some sleep. We can have breakfast together tomorrow and-"

"Stay with me?"

"What?"

"Stay here tonight." Ron repeated. "It'll be like when we were on the run and camping out in tents with-"

"Harry," Hermione finished with a nod. "Okay. Just, um… Let me change? I'll be right back."

Ron gave her a broad smile and nodded. Hermione left the room and went down the hall to her own. When she walked in she had to slap her hand to her mouth to keep in her scream.

"Malfoy!" She scolded after closing her door. "What the hell are you doing in my room?"

"Merlin," Draco half-chuckled, half-scowled as he sat up on her bed. "You'd think we didn't share a room or a bed before."

It took everything in her not to roll her eyes or to give a snappy reply. Instead she replied calmly and said, "Just answer the question, will you?"

"You didn't need me in there." He said calmly, albeit perhaps a bit bitterly. "You and Weasley seemed just fine. Quite frankly he acted a lot better than I thought he would. I expected a drooling mess."

Hermione cringed at the imagery. "I'm glad he's not, but his memory is shot. I had a feeling these last two years would've been hazy for him, but I didn't think that it would reach further back than that."

"What do you mean?"

"He thinks that the Battle of Hogwarts was this year. When he finds out I honestly don't know what he's going to do. And then there's the matter of his Dark Mark."

"I was wondering about that." Draco admitted. "He didn't seem bothered by it."

"He doesn't know it's there. The others charmed it somehow to hide it from him. He thinks it's a scar."

"A scar, huh?" He repeated as he rolled up his own sleeve to stare at his. "...Do you think they'll show me?"

Hermione frowned. "Your Mark doesn't bother me, you know."

"I know. But it bothers _me._ It's like...I've left him, betrayed him essentially, but he hasn't left me at all. An omnipresence that makes my bloody skin crawl."

Hermione's feet were moving before she even realized it. She sat on her heels on the floor and placed her hand over his Mark. It was odd for Draco to see her touching it. He tried his best to make sure that no one saw it much less _touched it._

"Your Mark doesn't define you, Malfoy. Your actions do. And if these past few weeks have said anything of you, you're a pretty good person. Remember that."

Draco nodded silently. Hermione smiled and kissed him on the cheek. Before she could fully rise to her feet, Draco held onto her wrists and kept her steady.

"Forget about changing into nightwear, Granger. Can we just go to bed?"

 _Did non-couple people even do that?_ Hermione thought to herself. However, whether they did or not didn't matter. At least not for tonight.

"Sorry, Malfoy, but I'm sleeping in Ron's room tonight."

Draco's surprise was evident on his face as well as with the sudden release of her wrists. "You are?"

Hermione nodded and finally got to her feet so that she cold rummage through her drawers for something to change into.

"He asked and I said that I would."

"Right. Of course."

His words were distant, but he didn't mean for them to be. The prospect of her sleeping in a room with someone other than him was rubbing him wrong in all sorts of ways. The idea of him having to sleep alone was a different kind of wrong though. He had done it enough since her capture and he certainly didn't want to have to do it again.

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut when he realized that Hermione had dressed into her sleepwear while he had been lost inside his mind.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, alright?" Hermione said to him. She gave him a weak smile which he returned and soon left her bedroom in order to spend the night with her long lost friend.

* * *

Fiona was worried. Blaise was a man of routine, and every night he came by to personally give her dinner. Last night, however, he didn't do it. She knew he wasn't dead. If he was, she was sure that the shield keeping her prisoner here would have disappeared. So what exactly happened?

She sighed and pouted miserably, plopping herself down on the large bed. It had only been a few days since waking up in this room, but to her it felt like months. She thought about Draco and Hermione and wondering what they were doing now. If they were safe and unharmed. And, of course, she thought about Adrian and the feelings that she had developed for him over a short amount of time. She thought about him the most. She wondered how he was feeling about her "death" and what he was doing to handle it. It must not sit well with him to have to work with Blaise. Did he even know that his fellow Deatheater was the one that had "killed" her?

So many questions. Too many answers. It made her sick to her stomach and Fiona rushed up from the bed and to upchuck what had remained in her stomach from today's lunch. She must've stayed in the bathroom for a half an hour at least, and when she came out she was surprised to find Eliza the house elf cleaning. It wasn't the action itself that was surprising for, after all, that's what house elves did. It was the fact that she was cleaning the room _inside the shield._

"Um, Eliza?"

Eliza paused her actions for a moment and smiled. "Oh, hello Miss Carrow!"

"What are you doing by my night table?"

"Oh, Eliza is sorry, but Mistress Zabini ordered Eliza to clean every room in the house! That includes yours."

Fiona's eyes widened. "Blaise's mother? She's here? _Now?_ "

"No, no, not now. Mistress Zabini always has Eliza clean before she arrives at least one day in advance."

"One day…" Fiona repeated to herself. "Eliza, what's today?"

"Tuesday, Miss Carrow."

Tuesday. Which meant that in a day and some hours the Order would be contacting Adrian at one a.m. She _had_ to be there with him when he did.

"Eliza," Fiona said excitedly. "If you can get into the shield that means you can get me out, can't you?"

Eliza's eyes grew with fright as she looked up at her. "B-but you are not a Zabini. Eliza _cannot_ follow your orders!"

"I wasn't ordering you to do anything. I simply asked if you could. Can you?"

Eliza swallowed deeply and then shook her head. "The shield will not allow a witch or wizard to enter or leave. Only Master Zabini can let you in or out.

Damn. She was afraid of that.

"Alright." Fiona said calmly. "That's okay. Let's say...if I give you a note to give to someone, can you do that?"

Eliza yelped in horror and covered her large ears with her hands. "Eliza is not your house elf! Eliza is _not_ your house elf! Miss Carrow cannot order-!"

"Eliza! Listen to me!" Fiona shouted and pried the elf's hands away. "Listen to me. What I asked wasn't an order. It was a request. Do you know what the difference is, Eliza?"

'"D-difference?"

"Yes, the difference. An order is a command. It's an action that you can't oppose –something that you _must_ do. A request is not that. A request is something that you can say no to. A request can be made by _anyone_. Do you understand that, Eliza?"

"Y-yes."

"So, if I _ask_ you to do something –which _isn't_ an order –you can do it. _If_ you want to."

Fiona smiled as she watched Eliza's face become enlightened.

"Do you _want_ to fulfill my _request?_ "

Eliza was smiling too and she nodded. "Yes. Eliza would like that very much."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Oh, Fiona, Fiona, how smart are you! And Ron wasn't too bad, but of course that was only the first encounter with him.

See you in a week!

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Guest:** Thanks! I'm really glad that you like it! :)

 **Victoria:** This is quite a lot to binge read, so I appreciate it! Fiona's "death" definitely hurt a lot of people, but wahoo she's alive! AND finding her way back to Adrian according to this chapter. Happiness for all! It's definitely quite the slow burn with Draco and Hermione, but they'll get there soon ;). And then there's Harry! Lots of good news going around yeah? :)

 **DramioneLover:** Happy that you like the story so far :). I can't really say much for Harry without giving away the rest of the plot, sorry! You'll just have to see where it goes :)

 **Karlie:** Thank you! Hope that you liked this chapter as well!


	36. One Week

Draco didn't have a very good sleep. He kept tossing and turning and having nightmares that oddly enough involved a head of red hair. And it didn't help that now, after hours of restlessness and _finally_ drifting into a comfortable sleep, that he was being prodded awake.

"Let me sleep, Granger." Draco grumbled. A hand continued to shake him and he shook it off. "I'm _serious_. Stop waking me and stay on your side of the bed for once."

" _What?_ " A deep male voice answered.

Draco snapped awake. He turned his head to find one of the eldest redheads standing at the side of the bed wearing a facial expression that was quite hard to place.

"What are you doing in my room, Weasley?"

"This isn't your room. It's Hermione's."

If Draco hadn't been awake before he certainly was now. He sat up in bed a little and looked around. As he had taken note of before, the rooms in this place weren't very different, but Hermione's bookshelf made all the necessary discrimination. He was just as surprised as Charlie to find himself here. He remembered being a tad disgruntled after Hermione had left. Then he had lain down to stew in his juices some and... Well, he must have fallen asleep on her bed.

Draco looked up at Charlie. It suddenly dawned on him that the man had come into Hermione's room expecting to find her there. He scowled.

"What do you want?"

Charlie glared at him. "Hermione,"

"I figured that much out for myself, thanks. What did you want from her?"

Charlie appeared to be grinding his teeth. Perhaps it was a form of restraint? Whatever it was, he was sure to lose all of his teeth if he kept at it.

"Where is she?"

"What do you want from her?

"Why won't you answer my question?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

Both men stared at each other with harsh gazes. They stayed like that for Merlin knew how long until Charlie let out a frustrated sigh.

"A meeting is happening before breakfast."

Draco rose a fine eyebrow. "So I was told, breakfast is at eight. What the hell time is it?"

"Six-thirty,"

"You woke me up at six-thirty in the bloody morning?!"

"You weren't supposed to be in here! Now answer my first question!"

"...Granger slept in your brother's room last night."

Charlie's face softened. "Oh. I guess their meeting went well then."

Draco sighed. "Very,"

Silence drifted in then, but Draco still had an itch to scratch.

"Tell me, Weasley. Does everyone get a personalized wakeup call around here, or just Granger?"

Charlie's face went red, but it was hard to tell whether from anger or embarrassment.

"Were it up to me you wouldn't be getting a wakeup call at all. Angelina is probably wondering where you are right about now."

Draco huffed. "Fine, you hate me. Good for you. How does it feel to stand on that ledge alone?"

"Don't get so cozy, Malfoy." Charlie sneered. "Just because everything looks fine on the outside, it doesn't mean that it is. Not everyone is thrilled to have you here. You-Know-Who is out for blood concerning you, and what leads to you leads to _us_."

Those were essentially Ginny's words once before. And although Draco could see his point, there was a greater point that had to be made.

"Granger wouldn't have left me behind. Where I go, she goes."

Charlie snorted. "What makes you think that?"

Draco chuckled. He stretched. And then he eased his shirt off his shoulders some so that he could massage them. His twisting would've revealed non-fully healed nail marks on his shoulders from yesterday's activities with the witch. From the whiter than white complexion on the man, Draco concluded that Charlie had seen.

"I have my reasons." The blond grinned. "What time is the meeting?"

"S-seven,"

"Alright," Draco replied as he went to lay back down on Hermione's bed. "I'll see you there."

* * *

Adrian couldn't sleep last night. He kept having dreams about Fiona. He dreamt about finding her. He dreamt about finding Blaise hovering over her lifeless body. He dreamt about the last time they were together. He even dreamt of a future with her.

All in all this equated to roughly three hours of sleep and he felt exhausted. He wanted to be on high alert today considering Blaise's sudden memory loss of certain events. He needed to see how the man maneuvered without them and then adapt accordingly.

But not right now. He had about forty-five minutes before he absolutely had to get up and get ready for breakfast. He was going to milk every single minute of this time he had for himself. Or at least he was. The sound of apparation filled his room and he scrunched his brows together as he found a house elf at the foot of his bed.

"Are you Mr. Adrian Pucey?"

Adrian tilted his head. "Yes?"

"My name is Eliza. Eliza has a note to give to you from Miss Fiona Carrow."

Adrian's felt his heart stop. He hurriedly threw his sheets off of him and scrambled to the edge of the bed. "What did you just say?"

"Eliza has a note to give to you from Miss Fiona Carrow."

Adrian's throat ran dry. He blinked several times, thinking that when he did the house elf would disappear because this was a dream. But she was still here.

"Where's the note?"

"Here, sir."

Eliza pulled the note out of a badly sewn in pocket. Adrian took it from her with a shaky hand and turned it over. As he did his thoughts swirled. This was too convenient. How, after _just_ finding out that Fiona _may_ still be alive, does this happen? Did Georgie screw up the Memory Charm? Did Blaise remember Adrian's risky attempt at Legilimency and thought of this as a cruel form of payback?

Adrian opened the note and was met Fiona's familiar script. What tumbled out of it and fell onto the bed was a ripped piece of fabric –fabric from the last set of clothes she'd worn and what he had seen in Blaise's head. The message inside wasn't much, but what he read held so much significance that he felt his heart soar.

 _Z summer home_

 _Warded bedroom_

 _Play nice with E_

 _With love, F.C._

Although the most important part of the note were the top two lines, Adrian couldn't help but focus on and melt at the way she had signed it. _With love…_ Merlin, he could've died right then the happiest man on the planet.

 _Play nice with E_

If "Z" stood for Zabini, Adrian could only come to the conclusion that "E" also stood for a name. He couldn't think for his life who he knew whose name began with that letter. No one except the house elf who was still in his room.

 _Play nice._

And that's when it dawned on him.

"Eliza," Adrian said tentatively. "Are you obligated to follow Fiona's orders?"

Eliza looked positively mortified. "Miss Carrow has _never_ ordered Eliza to do anything! Miss Carrow _asked_ Eliza."

Adrian slowly smiled. He and Fiona had had a conversation like this once. It was a long time ago at Hogwarts when she was boasting about how to get around getting other family house elves to do what she wanted. _"They're programmed for orders, not unobligated requests."_

If any quality of hers could've gotten Fiona into Slytherin, it was her cunning and resourcefulness.

"Hey, Eliza, I'm going to ask you a few questions if that's alright?"

"Yes, Mr. Pucey. Miss Carrow said that you would."

Adrian smiled. "Can you bring Fiona here?"

"No, sir." Eliza shook her head. "Her bedroom is warded and only Master Zabini can undo it."

 _Only he can undo it, huh?_ _Maybe it's some sort of blood spell?_

"How did you manage to get this note from her then?"

"Eliza can go in between the wards but cannot bring anyone with her."

"And where's the Zabini summer home?"

"Venice,"

"Alright, okay… One last question. Is Fiona always in the house alone?"

"Not always, no. Master Zabini always comes to bring her food, but he didn't come last night."

Adrian furrowed his brow. "He…? He what?"

"Master Zabini always makes sure that she is fed, sir. Especially dinner, around eight p.m. every day."

 _Well, that's surprising…_

"And that's all? Just him?"

"Yes, but Miss Carrow also wanted Eliza to tell you that Mistress Zabini will be home tomorrow."

Adrian stared at the elf in alarm. Tomorrow? _Tomorrow?_ That didn't give him much time at all! He only had one shot to do this and it had to be done today. He could always have Eliza apparate him to the summer home –that wasn't the problem. It was first hoping that the ward keeping Fiona trapped was blood-related, and then it was a matter of _getting_ Blaise's blood.

"Can I ask you for a favor, Eliza?"

Eliza's eyes lighted up in delight. "Of course!"

"Can you come back to this room at eleven p.m. tonight? If you don't mind?"

"Yes, Mr. Pucey! Eliza will come back."

Eliza disappeared from in front of his eyes and Adrian was on an adrenaline rush. Fiona was alive. She contacted him. And he'd be damned if he didn't get her out by tonight. He just needed a little help to do it, and he had a feeling he knew the perfect witch to help. Once he'd given her the right incentive, of course.

* * *

Ron had already been asleep when Hermione had gotten back to his room. She had smiled at him, even going so far as to sit at his side for a little while and watch him as he slept. She had gently prodded him too. On the cheek. The shoulder. His leg. His foot. She had this unquenchable need to make sure that he was real. That this wasn't some elaborate hoax.

And then that's when she had heard it. Ron's voice in her head. She didn't know what she would've done if she had seen him in the corner while the real version of him was beneath her perusing hand. It was strange, really, how the mind worked. Now that he was here, her imagination of him was manifesting as an auditory hallucination. Was this better or worse? Considering that she could have always shut her eyes to keep Ron from her sight and she couldn't shut off her ears, this was worse.

Hermione had gotten up from Ron's side and placed her hands over her ears to stop it. It didn't work. She didn't have her wand on her and so she couldn't try a Muffilato. And so she had spent Merlin only knew how long pacing the bedroom, mumbling under her breath how much she wanted him to stop. In the end she had crawled onto the other bed, placing her pillow over her head. She didn't know whether it was to muffle the sound or to smother herself, but eventually she had succumbed to sleep. Not a very _long_ sleep, she surmised, because when Charlie woke her up her eyes, head, and entire body felt worn and exhausted.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Charlie asked.

"I'm fine." She lied. "I just...I didn't sleep very well."

"Are you sure?"

Hermione nodded and then forced a smile onto her face. "I am. Promise. Um...what time is it?"

"Six-forty-five. Ginny and I thought it would be a good idea to have a meeting before breakfast. You know, figure out our next steps."

"Right. That sounds like a good idea. I actually have a few of my own that I want to bring up."

"Okay, great. The meeting's in fifteen minutes."

"Alright," Hermione said as she stretched and got out of bed. "I'll just go grab my wand from my room and-"

"You can't go in there." Charlie said quickly.

Hermione's brows furrowed. "What? What do you mean I can't-?"

"Malfoy's in your room."

Charlie watched her face for her reaction. He expected outrage. Or at least he _hoped_ for outrage. He still felt like vomiting after leaving her room with _him_ still in it. But there was nothing. She merely pursed her lips and sighed.

"Okay,"

"Okay?" He repeated. "That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it." Hermione said with a shrug. "What more is there?"

Charlie felt his mouth go slack-jawed, but he didn't let it fall. Instead he swallowed. This wasn't the time to discuss it. So he bit down on his tongue, _hard_ , and replied, "Nothing. It's nothing. How was Ron last night?"

Hermione resisted the urge to let her broken demeanor fall. "You were right. He really does think the Battle of Hogwarts was this year." She took a deep breath and glanced back at him. He was still a deep sleeper, but she felt better talking about this next bit outside, and so she urged Charlie to follow her out of the room. "Why did you cover his Mark? I know you didn't want to bombard him with too much, but I can't help but feel that prolonging this will only hurt him."

Charlie sighed. "I know, Hermione, but-"

"No, Charlie, listen to me. Have you thought about how bad his reaction will be when he finds out that his 'scar' isn't a scar? What if the charm you've used fades suddenly?"

"One of us goes into his room every two days when he's sleeping and strengthen the charm."

Hermione closed her eyes and let out an exasperated breath. "He should be told –at the very least about that. But, you and the others are his family and so it's up to you to decide what to do with him."

Charlie frowned. "You're his family too."

Hermione gave him a grim smile and nodded. "I'll see you at the meeting."

Hermione turned and left without waiting for Charlie's reply. When she got back to her room there he was, Draco, lying on her bed and staring up at the ceiling.

"This makes the second time I've come to my bedroom to find you here." She said after entering and closing her door.

Draco looked over at her with every intention to say something witty or sarcastic, but he stopped when he saw the state of her. He immediately swung his feet onto the floor and stood.

"What happened?"

"Malfoy, I'm fi-"

"Don't lie." Draco said sternly. He walked across the room to meet her until he was standing directly in front of her. Hair tousled. Dark circles under her eyes. A look of unease clearly written on her face. His lips turned down into a frown as he used his thumbs to run gently across her cheeks.

"What happened?"

Hermione couldn't help it. She could feel the buildup of tears and did very little to stop them as they fell. Draco wiped them away as they came. He didn't ask any more questions. He didn't have to. He only said one thing:

"Don't go there again without me."

Hermione nodded. Draco smiled a bit and then left her side for a moment to retrieve both his wand and hers. He slipped hers into her hand, but he aimed his. She tilted her head a bit in confusion before he explained.

"You look a mess." Draco said. "If you don't want anyone to slam you with questions, I have to make an adjustment or two, alright?"

"Yes, of course. Go ahead."

Draco's free hand slowly gravitated to the back of her neck, and he locked her in place. He used his wand to make her hair slightly less wild. Next he tackled the tears and erased them from existence. Then he put her wand to her eyes to make them less puffy and the skin around them less dark. That was all that was needed, and no one would think that she had been plagued at all during the wee hours of the morning.

And yet although he was done, he didn't move. He kept his hand on her neck, drawing slow circles with his finger. He stared into her eyes –fresh and awake they were now as well as vibrant and curious as he was so used to seeing. They both knew that a kiss was coming, but it still didn't prepare them well enough. It wasn't lust-filled. It wasn't even remotely passionate. It was a slow kiss meant to be savored and deeply felt when their tongues touched. It was over in mere seconds, but it felt like a millennia. They rested their foreheads together and closed their eyes, neither saying anything for a while.

"The last time you did this," Hermione whispered, "you _wanted_ me to look like a mess."

Draco felt himself smile. "Yes. Funny how things change."

* * *

When Blaise woke up that morning he felt like he'd been hit by a stampede of hippogriffs. His head hurt and he tasted blood in his mouth. Did he get into a fight last night?

He sat up in bed and blinked as he looked around his room. _What_ happened last night? Try as he might he couldn't remember. It was just…some black hole of missing events. And it bothered him. In all likelihood he probably got drunk last night as he usually did, but memory loss in the morning? He didn't _do_ blackouts. His liquor tolerance was higher than any normal person's and the aftereffects he should've gotten were either non-existent or at a minimum. _Something_ had happened to him, and damn it he was going to figure out what it was.

Blaise suddenly gripped his arm and shut his eyes when his arm burned. He ditched his bed quickly, grabbed his wand, and headed to the nearest fireplace so that he could Floo to Malfoy Manor. When he got there it was quiet –eerily so. There was the assembly of a few Deatheaters, but upper-level ones. Bellatrix met his eye as he walked across the foyer and she smiled in a way that made his insides squirm.

When Blaise made it to Voldemort's room, he found the man on his feet and wearing his best robe. He must've been getting ready to travel. He always did for a week every two months. Had two months even gone by already for him to be taking another trip? Maybe. Even around that his mind felt fried.

"My lord," Blaise said with a small bow. Voldemort turned to him with what should've been tight lips and fixed him with a harsh gaze.

"Your progress on Draco. I want news _now._ "

Blaise held in his gulp. He knew that Draco had fled roughly twenty-four hours ago. A little over than that even. But there were gaps. He remembered the night that idiot friend of his fled with the mudblood. He remembered… _helping him_ further escape. Pucey… Pucey was on the search team for Draco. But after that, there were black spots on his memory that he couldn't account for and it was _not_ due to drinking.

"At the moment there's nothing-" Blaise dropped to his knees quicker than he could blink when Voldemort sent a vicious _Crucio_ his way. He writhed on the floor, his body arching in unnatural ways, his teeth clamped down hard as it felt like knives were stabbing in and out of him.

And then it stopped.

Blaise panted and breathed in dust from the floor. "I… I'll find him, my lord."

"You don't have a choice." Voldemort hissed.

The room became quiet for a moment and Blaise flinched as Voldemort walked passed him and his cloak floated past his skin accidentally.

"I have duties to attend to." He said. "I will be gone for a week."

Blaise held in his grunt when Voldemort knelt beside him and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

"You will _not_ grow lax in my absence." Voldemort ordered. "I expect to find Draco bloodied and on the brink of death upon my return. If I don't, rest assured that _you_ will be."

Voldemort roughly let Blaise go and then headed towards the door. He paused though, and said one last thing before leaving.

"Before you go, do check on Lucius in the dungeon. Make sure that he's taking care of his task."

Blaise looked up in time to see Voldemort's retreating form. He was being put in charge of Lucius now? What for? Lucius was an upper level Deatheater much like others of his generation. He was trusted to take care of tasks on his own, so why did Blaise have to watch him?

Of course, it wasn't his place to question him. Instead, Blaise got his bearings after his legs buckled under a few times and headed towards the dungeons. Voldemort and his inner circle were gone and so he allowed himself to show pain and his dismay that he could be dead in a week.

 _Damn I need drink…_ Blaise thought as he took the stairs one at a time. The first thing he heard was whispering. The next thing he heard was crying. He scrunched his brows together once he got a clear view of the dungeons and his eyes went wide at what he saw.

Narcissa, sitting in a cell, bruised and bleeding all over. Lucius was in there with her, his wand set in his hand. The sight made Blaise want to wretch.

"If I thought you loved anyone, I thought it would be her." Blaise found himself saying. It was supposed to be in his head, but the words slipped out of his mouth with little effort. Lucius whirled himself around, ready to strike, but Narcissa latched onto his arm with an amazing strength someone who underwent torturing shouldn't have had.

"Leave him be, Lucius."

"But he could tell-"

"He won't tell anyone. Look at him. He's hardly like the others."

Blaise took a step forward. "What's going on here?"

"What are you doing down here, boy?" Lucius countered. Blaise huffed.

"The Dark Lord sent me to make sure you were completing your task." Blaise answered. He took another look at Narcissa and smirked. He could finally see the faint appearance of Glamour Charms on her skin. "Obviously you're not. He'll be able to tell the difference, you know."

"By then she won't be here for him to notice."

Blaise's brows rose. "You…you plan on letting her go?" His surprise gave way to anger and he scowled. "And yet you were going to capture Draco? You insensitive little-"

"Don't assume things you know nothing about!" Lucius snapped at him. "I had hoped to capture my son, yes, but not for the fatal end you suspect. Out there he is dead no matter what, but here? Here he had a chance. I had wanted to _reason_ with the Dark Lord."

"Reason? _Reason?_ " Blaise scoffed. "There is no reasoning with the Dark Lord. It's either his way or it's _his way._ "

Lucius huffed. "You share the same sentiments my wife did. She took it upon herself to impersonate me in order to let Draco go free should she find him." He sighed and looked back at Narcissa who was looking up at him fondly. "Now look at the predicament you've found yourself in."

"And I would do it again." Narcissa said with a proud lift of her chin. "He's safe with them, Lucius. Safe with her."

Lucius scowled deeply. "Safe with that mudblood? It's her fault he's even in this mess."

"Agreed," Blaise added.

Narcissa frowned. So blinded they were by hate, by blood, by prejudices that shouldn't matter in terms of life or death. She sighed and turned her eyes on Blaise.

"You want to make sure he lives too, don't you?"

Blaise followed suit in her frown and shuffled his feet. "The bloody idiot's my best friend. Of course I don't want him dead."

"What are you doing to ensure that he lives then?" Lucius asked. "The Dark Lord put you in charge of finding him."

"…Fake his death, but first I have to find him. I have a one week deadline to do so or else it's _me_ that's on the chopping block. What are you going to do about her?"

"I have to make arrangements somewhere for her to go, but I have a week deadline as well. After you find and detrain Draco, he can go with her."

"Good. I suppose the countdown starts now then."

* * *

 **Author's note:** As I write this chapter, I realize that things are coming to a climax and are going to start wrapping up rather soon! I haven't written it yet, but I can see how the rest is going to play out. I'll sure miss this when it's over! I'm horrible at estimating an end chapter, but let's go and shoot for 45?

Thanks everyone! :)

Replies to Guests

 **Victoria:** Well, with this chapter, we know that Adrian's going to find a way to get his girl out. Yey! And Blaise, well, I think he has a set agenda here now. And with a Lucius twist, how fun! And yes, Hermione likes him, but alas, Draco's got some serious commitment issues. And well, he _is_ a tad possessive ;).


	37. Making Moves

Everyone sans Ron assembled for the meeting. Hermione and Draco sat near each other without thinking, and the arrangement was largely ignored except from Angelina, who did well to hide her smile for the most part. Ginny gave them a quick side glance. Charlie was the most noticeable of them all and he looked highly uncomfortable.

Hermione leaned over to Arthur and whispered, "What's wrong with Charlie? He looks upset."

"I don't know. I tried asking, but he just said nothing."

Hermione frowned, but before she could even address the situation further everyone was getting silenced so that the meeting could begin.

"Okay guys," Ginny said as she turned to everyone. "We stumbled on some pretty big news last night and we need to figure out what we're going to do about it."

"Are we saying for sure that You-Know-Who's a Horcrux?" Padma asked. "I mean, it's just a theory. We can't exactly _prove_ it."

"No, we can't. But how many forms of magic can repel the Killing Curse of all things?"

"Not very many." Bill frowned. "Alright, for the sake of not having another explanation right now, let's go with the Horcrux thing. How exactly are we supposed to kill him then?"

"The Sword of Gryffindor," Hermione said urgently. "Where is it?"

"Gone," Dean informed her. "It disappeared sometime before our London base got destroyed. Who knows which Gryffindor it went off to."

"Well, there's always a basilisk fang. Granted, that means we'd have to get _really_ close to You-Know-Who to kill him. Closer than if we had the sword."

"Wait a minute, time out." Dennis said in alarm. "A basilisk fang? Where the hell are we supposed to find one of those?"

"Hogwarts," Hermione said simply, and the room fell silent because everyone knew that Hogwarts –their once prestigious school –was overrun with Deatheaters as professors. "Harry destroyed one of the Horcruxes with it. It would be our only shot."

"Hermione," Seamus started tentatively. "Going there would be our necks. _Definitely._ Besides, I remember the story of how Harry got down there. None of us speak Parsletongue."

"No, but Ron had learned enough from Harry to open it without him."

Charlie's back straightened. "You're talking about letting Ron out."

"I am."

"That could ruin him."

"He's our only option. Our best option actually. Because he still thinks the Battle of Hogwarts was this year, he'd know his way around Hogwarts better than any of us. He'd know how to get into the chamber as well. Besides, whether you all like it or not, we'd have to go to Hogwarts anyway."

Angelina furrowed her brow. "Why's that?"

"Harry," Ginny said distantly. "Harry's body is buried there."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed. "And, going with our You-Know-Who Horcrux theory, if we want Harry's soul to go back into his body then we have to go where his body is."

Draco turned her in extreme surprise. "You buried him on Hogwarts grounds?"

"The forest, yes. Considering the end result, we didn't want to run the risk of someone trying to steal his body. We thought the forest would be best."

"And his body is still… Well, still… _good_?"

"A lot complex spells would keep him that way. We had every intention of going back for him when the war ended. It just hasn't yet."

"You know this means that we'd have to lure You-Know-Who there." Bill interjected. "You do realize this, don't you?"

Hermione frowned and nodded while Padma jumped into the conversation.

"How exactly would we lure him? I know he wants us all dead and everything, but with his people being at Hogwarts, he could very well just get them to do us in. There'd be no reason for him to come."

"Unless we give him what he wants." Dean cautiously suggested.

"We don't have the Hallows." Padma argued.

"Do we have to? A good rumor here or there and You-Know-Who would come running. He's desperate to find them, isn't he? And I doubt he'd leave that task to just his followers."

"Thomas is right." Draco agreed. "My mother told me that the Dark Lord is looking for something. He travels just for that purpose and if he's going through that much trouble to find what could only be the Hallows himself, then he'd definitely go wherever he thinks they are."

"So it works itself out then, yeah?" Percy announced to the air. "If we really do take this on, all we have to do is-"

"Dodge a horde of Deatheater school staff to go grab the fang of a dead snake, dig up and carry a body somewhere on Hogwarts grounds so that when the Dark Lord is killed _near it_ , Potter's soul can _maybe_ hop back in. And this, of course, is all under our assumption that our theory of him being a Horcrux is correct."

Draco looked at everyone and continued with a sigh. "That sound about right?"

Percy gulped. "Yeah, yeah, that's pretty much it."

"Do you guys really think we can do this?" Seamus asked. "This is kind of a lot and we hardly have the numbers behind us."

"There's always the ally network." Bill suggested, but Charlie frowned.

"Our ally network is meant to be hidden. If we expose them and then we fail they'll remain exposed. We won't have a network anymore."

"But it's worth the risk, isn't it?" Ginny appealed to her brother. "The chance to kill You-Know-Who? To… To bring Harry back."

Charlie's face morphed into a sympathetic one as he looked on his only little sister and he sighed. "Gin, there's a chance that _that_ part of the plan might not work."

" _None_ of this could work." She shot back. "But us hiding away isn't helping anything. We'll have to refine all of this into a concrete plan, yes, but I vote that we go for it."

Everyone dove into a deep, dense quiet as Ginny stared at them all. Hermione felt the look in her friend's eyes and she knew that this whole adventure was more than just about killing Voldemort. It was about getting the love of her life back. Harry had been taken away from her so suddenly with absolutely _no_ time to fully dive into the feelings that they had developed over a short amount of time.

Hermione couldn't help it. She glanced at Draco and she thought about what she would do if it was _him_ that was dead. What would she do if there was a way to get him back? Even if the chances were slim?

"Let's go for it." Angelina said. Ginny's eyes flicked up to her and she gave her a grateful smile.

"Oh, what the hell, yeah let's do it." Dennis shrugged. "Besides, we don't know how he's making out in his Hallows hunt and we need to get him before he gets his hands on them. Before he's twice as hard to kill."

"Well, I have a bit of a suggestion on that front." Hermione said. "One to maybe help us find the Hallows _and_ Neville and Luna –provided that they're still together and have Harry's cloak."

Arthur began to smile. "That's your brilliant idea face. Go on. What is it?"

Hermione fought her blush and cleared her throat. "Well, as I was going through book after book trying to find a way to track the Hallows, I realized that the stories that had cryptic tales about them were all written by different people and well, that struck me as odd. How could these _all_ be about the same thing but with a different author?"

Ginny's eyes lit up as she caught on. "You think they were all written by the same person."

"I do. Of course, finding out his or her true name would take forever and we're a bit pressed for time here."

"What do you suggest?"

"Going to Chelf Press. The ones who published all of the stories. They're still up and running although they publish less...happy things now."

Draco's face paled. "Granger, that means leaving the base."

Hermione sighed. "I know."

"You can't go."

"Well, I wasn't planning on going _alone._ "

"Then I'll go with you." Both Draco and Charlie said. They gave each other harsh gazes while Hermione stared between them both.

"You're a wanted man, Malfoy." Charlie said. "You can't leave here."

Draco snorted. "You're wanted too."

"We _all_ are." Ginny inputted, clearly seeing testosterone levels reaching a dangerous point. "It honestly doesn't matter who goes at this point. Although," she added as she turned to Draco. "It _is_ probably best if you stay here. After revealing yourself as a traitor to You-Know-Who, you're more wanted than the rest of us right now."

"And Granger's _not?_ "

"I have to go." Hermione pleaded with him. "I've spent more time with my nose in these stories than I thought possible and I'll know what I'm looking for when I see it. This is much too important to leave to anyone else, I'm sorry."

"Then it's settled." Charlie said smugly. "Hermione and I will go."

"When?" Arthur asked.

Hermione spared a glance at Draco one more time to find that he was absolutely seething. "As soon as possible,"

* * *

Blaise left Malfoy Manor feeling like he was teetering on the edge of light and dark. He wasn't a good person. He knew that. But obviously he wasn't totally evil if he was willing to defy orders and keep Draco alive. If he was willing to forego the knowledge of, essentially, a traitor who had the intentions of letting his wife go free. Perhaps it wasn't about good or bad. Perhaps it was just about the things a person would do to survive or self-soothe. Case and point, the person who said they could never kill someone. But what if their loved one was threatened or murdered? Could they honestly sit back and watch the perpetrator walk free? It would take a very strong person not to act and _everyone_ acted out one way or another. It was just a matter of how.

That was the thought that had occupied Blaise's mind as he made it back to Edinburgh Castle. He had "killed" the love interest of one Mr. Adrian Pucey, and the man hadn't done a single thing to him. _That he knew of._ He had a sneaky feeling that it was Pucey who was responsible for the recent gaps in his memory, and he had every intention at the moment to beat the answer out of him.

He found the man in question, surprisingly, mingling with the other Deatheaters of the Manor in one of the studies. He was talking to Daphne while Goyle, Tracey, and Pansy (who looked positively bored with the conversation) were in a world of their own until they spotted him.

"Where'd you disappear off to?" Pansy asked him.

"Dark Lord,"

"Oh… Wasn't a very good meeting then, I take it? You look a bit off."

"I'm fine." Blaise said curtly. "Now get out."

Pansy sat back a little at his abruptness. "Sorry?"

"You're not deaf, Parkinson. Get. _Out._ All of you. Except you," he pointed to Adrian.

Adrian's brows rose high off his head. He could hear Daphne whispering to him, asking what he did to piss Blaise off. He knew of several things, none of which he could tell her, and none that Blaise should know anyway. Although, it was always possible that someone could recognize a memory tampering when huge chunks were erased at once.

Everyone trickled out of the room one by one and gave the two remaining men one last questioning look. Once they were alone and the door was shut and the room silenced, Blaise set his murderous eyes on him.

"You erased my memories." Blaise accused. "I can't remember anything that happened yesterday." Adrian kept a cool facade and spoke.

"It's called a blackout." He said calmly. "That's what happens when you drink and we both know how much you like to-"

"I don't blackout. Not to that extent. _Ever._ "

"So _you_ say. But I lugged your heavy arse back to the castle last night after we went to the pub."

Blaise faltered for a moment. "You…? You what?"

"Lugged. Your. _Heavy_. Arse." Adrian repeated. "You were piss drunk."

"I'm _always_ piss drunk!"

"Then I don't know why-"

"Because something's bloody wrong here and I know it's your fault!" Blaise shouted at him. He aimed his wand at him. Adrian tried to keep calm. This could go either really well or really badly. Although, if it went wrong then he could possibly benefit from it…

 _Here's hoping this doesn't blow up in my face._

"Fine." Adrian said after a short pause. He leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "What if I did do something to your memories? What would I have done it for?"

"To keep me from finding out what I already know about you."

Adrian kept his face still lest he gave anything away he didn't want to. "Yeah? What's that?"

"That you're a traitor just like Fiona."

"Guess it's a good thing your memory is shot then."

"I don't need my memory for that." Blaise said, a small grin playing on his lips. "I saw you that night in Gorgie. That piddly excuse you call wandless magic? It did _nothing_ to bring down that ceiling. _I_ did that with my wand. Not you."

Adrian's face fell and he couldn't help it. And it wasn't about the fact that Blaise had seen him.

"You let Draco and Hermione get away. Why?"

"He was my friend before he was yours. Don't ever forget that."

Adrian scoffed and rose to his feet. "You hunt down your friends, do you?"

"I do what's necessary." Blaise countered. And then he smiled. "And since now I'm completely sure that you're on such friendly terms with the resistance and _Hermione,_ you're going to tell me where they, and thus Draco, are hiding."

Adrian shook his head slowly. "You know very well that I'd never tell you something like that."

"If that's how you want to play it, fine. I'll just have to out you to the Dark Lord. He'd just _love_ that."

"Just as much as I'm sure he'd love the fact that you're a liar."

Blaise's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

Adrian smirked and took careful strides up to him as he spoke. "I said that you're a liar. Because someone got a little sloshed last night and let slip that a certain young woman whose body is supposed to be burned to a crisp is still alive. Imagine how the Dark Lord will feel about that. Not very happy I bet."

Blaise's lips rose into a snarl and there went the first punch. Adrian got hit straight in the jaw and he stumbled back before correcting himself. Then they were at it.

"If you tell _anyone_ , I'll kill you!" Blaise shouted at him as he straddled him, attempting to deliver yet another punch to the face. Adrian took the next punch just the same before he managed to roll them over and he could deliver one of his own. Right in the middle of his face. The next to blacken the eye. Both men were bleeding at this point, but Blaise more so considering that Adrian was pretty sure he'd broken his nose.

"You keep quiet, I keep quiet." Adrian sneered at him. He slid onto the floor and stared at Blaise with all the hatred in the world. The man was holding his nose, blood flowing freely and slipping down his hand and onto the floor.

"After I find Draco," Blaise said dangerously. "I _will_ kill you one day."

"Good luck finding Draco."

"Oh I'll find him. Whether through my own devices, through you, or," he added with a haughty tone. "When he finds out his mother's been captured."

Adrian's eyes widened. "She's been what?"

Blaise smiled broadly. "Make sure you let him know, yeah?"

With that he got up from the floor, still holding his broken nose, and left the study. Adrian watched him as he went. Draco's mother… He was going to go mad when he found out. Knowing him he'd flee the base and go straight to her without any regard for himself. He'd already done that for one woman, how much more for his mother? Unless…Adrian could get her out himself? He'd heard through Goyle that his father would be travelling with the Dark Lord. That meant he'd be gone. Perhaps he could rescue her and take her somewhere safe?

He'd have to get to Fiona first though, seeing as her time window was a lot shorter than Narcissa's. He just had to get through those wards on her bedroom. And that's when he stared at the floor where small droplets of Blaise's blood lay.

It was just was Adrian needed.

* * *

As luck would have it Chelf Press wasn't very far away which meant there was no need to waste any time or to contact Ace for long-distance travel. Hermione and… _him_ would be going as soon as they got the necessary supplies together. Draco sat in his room brooding.

"You're a whiner." Giselle said as she sat down next to him. "Do you know that?"

Draco scowled. "Quit it. I'm not in the mood."

Giselle frowned and tilted her head to one side. "She doesn't like him."

"Then please inform that prick because obviously he doesn't get it."

"What is he supposed to get exactly? That you and Hermione are in 'mutual like?' I hate to tell you this, but neither of you act like it outside of private walls."

Draco felt his stomach tighten at that. It hurt even more as his imagination kept talking.

"Charlie doesn't think you're serious about her. I mean, without a commitment you're not _really-_ "

"He knows." Draco said stonily. Giselle laughed delightfully and he was vaguely aware that it didn't cause as many butterflies as it used to.

"How? Because you showed him your little love marks?" Giselle smiled and sighed happily. "A mark isn't always a mark, Draco. And what's on your shoulders doesn't mean that Hermione's yours."

Without acknowledging her Draco suddenly stood. He wrenched open his bedroom door and took off down the halls until he found the appropriate one. When he was sure he had, he didn't even knock. Instead he barged right in and shut the door after him.

"Damn it, Malfoy!" Charlie shouted at him. "What the hell are you doing in-?"

"Don't muck it up."

"Sorry?"

"If Granger comes back with so much as a scratch, I _promise_ you that I will kill you." Draco threatened. Charlie's face grew hard and he stared the man down.

"Words like that coming from a man like you is dangerous. You'd better watch yourself."

"Watch Granger." Draco emphasized. "Because I meant what I said. If anything happens to her I'll jam my wand in your throat and I won't regret it."

Draco left Charlie's room as quickly as he had entered it. Technically speaking, this didn't make Hermione "officially" his either, but it felt damn good to say it.

* * *

 **Author's note:** A bit of a filler before the real stuff comes knocking, but things are being put into motion!

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Victoria:** So much to work through isn't it! It's going to be a rocky ride :)


	38. Truths & Lies

Hermione and Charlie had stocked up big time. Potions galore to use if they needed –ones for attacking, defending, and ones for pain in case one of them got hurt. As was mentioned during the meeting Chelf Press was still operational. They printed everything from books to newspaper articles. The articles (as with any newspaper) were monitored closely so that no negative remarks or propaganda against Voldemort could be printed. Instead they often headlined resistance members who've evaded capture thus far. Going there, in essence, was dangerous.

Both Hermione and Charlie altered their appearances appropriately before going and soon found themselves in Lennoxtown. It was a mixed district which worked to their advantage. Less people would be concerned with their visit. The tactic was simple, albeit it was always easier said than done. Wizard Uni was a few towns over, and they were to be students with an inquisitive mind. Despite war, life, however abysmal, still went on. It wouldn't be such an odd request. They only hoped that something good would come out of this risky adventure.

They had apparated a few blocks away from their destination, and so they walked calmly towards it. It was in this way that Hermione could really think on the matter that had transpired this morning and this inkling that couldn't escape her. Something, she didn't know what and she didn't know how, but _something_ had gone on between Charlie and Draco without her knowing it. The way they looked at each other. Those heated glances and the crisp comments. Even now there was a hesitance in Charlie and it wasn't coming from the daunting exercise they were embarking on. From the moment he had offered himself to go on this trip with her, she had expected at least one awkward conversation to follow. And here it was.

"Hermione," Charlie said hesitantly. "Can I ask you something?"

Hermione kept in her sigh. "Sure, Charlie. What is it?"

"Well, what I'm about to ask may sound a bit ludicrous, but humor me anyway, okay?" He took a deep breath. "There's... There's nothing going on between you and Malfoy, is there?"

 _Yes, there goes the awkward_.

But what could she say? Hermione liked Draco. She did. She hadn't felt such a connection with…well, with anyone in quite some time. But what was going on between them was a mystery in itself what with their non-relationship relationship. If she couldn't explain it to herself then how could she explain it to someone else?

Hermione nervously ran a hand up and down her arm. "We've been through a lot together as of late." She said carefully. "I do care about him."

"Oh," was Charlie's only reply. They were silent for a bit, but not nearly long enough. "But you don't like him like him, do you?"

"Would it matter if I did?" Hermione asked exasperatedly. "I'm a grown woman, Charlie, and I can see whomever I want."

"I know that. Don't think that I don't know that for a second. But it's Malfoy! He's a Deatheater and it matters very much in this case."

" _Defected_ Deatheater,"

Charlie groaned. "Hermione,"

"Who would be better for me then?" Hermione challenged. "Ron, I suppose you would say. Or," she paused. "You, perhaps."

Charlie immediately began to look flustered. "I... Well, I..." He cheated his throat. "That's not fair, Hermione. You know how I felt about you."

"I know how you _still_ feel about me. That's why I said it."

More silence. More awkwardness.

"We had decided not to pursue anything." Hermione said quietly.

"No. _You_ had decided. I went along with it because that's what you wanted."

She supposed that was true. She had been sixteen at the time, he twenty-three, and Charlie had been... Well, he'd been Charlie. He'd been pleasant to be around when she'd met him at fourteen and more so when she was sixteen. Overall he'd been an attractive, intelligent, and energetic person and, needless to say, it'd been a very interesting Christmas holiday that year. But with him in Romania and her in school, Hermione had thought nothing could ever come of it. Not to mention she had felt incredibly guilty having been de-flowered by one of Ron's brothers when her own feelings towards the youngest brother had been up in the air at the time. She would always have a soft spot for Charlie, but nothing like he had for her. Apparently that holiday break had been enough to seal the deal for him.

"Malfoy's only going to hurt you."

"I didn't say that I was dating him."

"You might not have, but he certainly did." Charlie grumbled. "Going about, parading you around like he owns you-"

Hermione sputtered. "Owns me? Parading me around? Charlie, when has he ever-?"

"We're here."

She stopped suddenly at his words and looked up. They were in front of Chelf Press, a two-level building with busy workers that could be seen from the outside. Their conversation would have to be halted for now and they both put on their business faces as they entered the publisher's office.

Pass the front doors there was a gentle ringing of a bell to signal their arrival, but barely anyone had noticed. A possible glance up from their desks, but nothing more than that. Floating pieces of parchment zipped through the air. Some had photographs of resistance members on them -all of whom were hiding out in the same base.

"Can I help you?" A stocky witch with oversized glasses asked. Hermione cleared her throat and nodded.

"Yes. My friend and I both attend Smellerbee and we're working on a year-long project on a collection of books that were all published here. We were hoping to talk to whoever runs this place if that's alright?"

The witch eyed them both suspiciously, but really, how harmful could two Uni students be? She huffed and told them to wait where they were while she went to the boss. As it appeared, his office was towards the back and up a rickety winding set of stairs. It almost reminded Hermione of the burrow (long since destroyed), and by the look on Charlie's face it seemed to have brought back memories for him too.

From the top of those stairs a man who might have been about sixty stood by the railing next to the witch who had fetched him. He looked down at the two people who were requesting a meeting with him and gave them a nod to come up. Hermione and Charlie gave brief glances to each other before heading up to greet the man.

"Heather Peachly," Hermione introduced herself.

"Todd Warner," Charlie named himself.

"Michael Price," the Editor-in-Chief replied. "Come, have a seat. Natalie says that you're from the nearby Uni?"

"That's right." Charlie nodded. "We're in our final year and finishing up a project we've been doing on literature and-"

"Literature?" Mr. Price repeated, then he scoffed. "Not to be rude, but in our present times something akin to an Auror or anything with government would be best wouldn't you think?"

That surprised the pair. Charlie shrugged and cupped his hands in his lap.

"What good what it do?"

Mr. Price smiled. "You'd be amazed at what little steps you can do to help. But anyway, since you came to discuss books, let's talk about books. What is it that you want to know?"

"Well," Hermione began. "Our topic is on the nature of fairytales. More specifically, how that, although children stories, they present a bigger picture that may be missed yet somehow still internalized."

"Hmm… Quite a deep topic for something so innocuous."

"Yes, but 'little steps' and all that."

"Of course. Go on."

"Right, so, we have a few books -well, stories that we want to focus on. Like the Tale of the Three Brothers and Paul's Rock, for example."

Mr. Price's smile started falling the moment Hermione had mentioned the Three Brothers. It hadn't been lost on the resistance members, and they immediately went on their guard.

"Something wrong, Mr. Price?" Charlie asked.

"Wrong?" He chuckled. "No, no, nothing's wrong. May I ask why you chose _those_ fairytales in particular for your project?"

"It's like I said." Hermione shrugged casually. "The bigger picture. There's...something more to these stories than meets the eye and we want to know more about them. To maybe find-"

"Well, as audacious as your efforts are, I'm afraid that I can't help you. All I do is publish. You should talk to the authors."

"We can't. There's no address, no way to contact them-"

"Then it seems that you're quite out of luck, aren't you!" Mr. Price raised his voice as he stood. Charlie stood with him, his fingers grazing the handle of his wand.

"I'll ask again, Mr. Price. Is there something wrong?"

"Who are you?" He demanded. "You're not from the Uni. You can't be."

Hermione stood, pointed her wand at the door, locked it and silenced the room. "You're right, we're not. I think you know what those stories are about which is why you're reluctant -not to mention jittery."

Mr. Price whipped out his wand quickly and aimed it at Hermione, but Charlie disarmed him before letting tight ropes bind around him.

"Let me out of this!"

"No." Charlie said as he pocketed the man's wand. "You're going to answer our questions."

"I refuse."

"Then you stay tied up." Hermione told him. "But, if you care so much about what we 'study' in Uni, then it's obvious that you want this war to end. If that's the case you _will_ tell us everything you know."

"I _can't_. Those stories… They were written as a warning, nothing more. I didn't want-"

" _You?_ " Hermione repeated in surprise. "Are you saying that _you_ wrote them?"

Charlie stood rooted to the spot in disbelief. "That can't be possible. Those stories were written years ago. Decades upon decades. It couldn't have been you."

Mr. Price sighed. "When you're touched by magic, anything is possible."

"What do you mean 'touched by magic?'"

"I mean that once you use something so...dark and something that you can barely comprehend, that from a child up it stays with you no matter what you do. It's... _a part of you._ "

Hermione's widened to size of saucers and she nearly dropped her wand. "Oh my Merlin… _You're the boy!_ The one his father gave the cloak to! You...you're Ignotus Peverell's son!"

Charlie actually let his wand fall to the floor. "No… You? Is she right? Are...are you _really?_ "

Mr. Price lowered his head and gave a pitiful nod. Hermione undid the binds and watched as he slumped to the floor.

"The Hallows have kept you alive all this time?"

"Yes," he said sadly. "An unnatural elixir of life. Funny then that it was given by Death."

"Then that's what it means, Hermione." Charlie said to her. "It's not just that having the Hallows make you harder to kill. You just...you live. You live longer than you could've ever imagined."

"And apparently you don't have to have them in your possession either." Hermione frowned with concern. Mr. Price nodded in confirmation.

"You only have to have used them once."

"You-Know-Who's only been using the Elder Wand." Charlie said more to himself than the other people in the room before he stared at them both in a panic. "He can't get his hands on them all. That would be-"

"You said that it's a part of you." Hermione said to Mr. Price eagerly. "That when you use something so dark it's _a part_ _of you._ Does that mean you can find the Hallows?"

Mr. Price began shaking his head vigorously as he picked himself off the floor. "No. No, absolutely not."

"'No' you _can't_ or 'no' that you _won't?_ "

"No, as in no one should ever lay their hands on them." Mr. Price said fiercely. "The cloak, that was harmless. It was the only reason I passed it down to my son and so forth. But the others? They're the most terrible things to ever have come into existence. I won't give another person the chance to find them!"

"By not helping us you are!" Hermione argued with him. "You-Know-Who is out there hunting them down! Would you want _him_ to live as long as you have? Ruling over us? Killing us?" She sighed and used her wand to remove the alterations on her face. Mr. Price jumped back in surprise when he realized who she was. "We're the good guys here."

"I… I had heard rumors that you were still alive." Mr. Price said breathlessly. "I thought it was merely stories."

"Well, now you know they're not. We want the Hallows to stop that evil man, not to use them. Actually it's just one Hallow we're after. The invisibility cloak. Last we saw of it, it was with two of of our friends when our base got destroyed. Providing that they still have it, it could lead us to them.

'Besides," Hermione added. "Harry, _your_ descendant, would want us to have it. The cloak was passed down through family and _we_ were his family. If you don't buy into anything else that I've said, at the very least trust that."

Mr. Price swallowed and stared at the young witch with a conflicting heart. He had followed his family tree through the ages and yes, Harry Potter was one of his sons after many generations. It had amazed him, honestly, how long and how well the cloak had been cared for and still within family hands. And by the looks of this young woman, she had cared for him very much.

Mr. Price sighed. "Just the cloak?"

Hermione nodded. "Just the cloak."

"...Alright,"

* * *

Draco went to breakfast as early as possible because he wanted to avoid the awkward. He had realized (horribly so) that without Hermione here he had no one. Nobody outright hated him (to his face at least with exception of that dragon-loving fool…), but no one was going to outright befriend him either. The last thing that he had wanted was to walk into the room filled with people and have to wonder where he should sit – _if_ there was even a place for him to do so.

And so he got there before anyone else had and sat down at one of the tables. He realized now that he was exhausted and put his head in his hands. After breakfast he wanted to sleep. He'd sleep until he was sure that Hermione was back. Although, it was quite possible that he wouldn't get a wink –too stressed and too worried, wondering if her little expedition had led to her death.

"What's wrong with you?"

Draco snapped his gaze up and found Ron at his side. He looked around, trying to find who was here with him but there was no one else aside from them.

"I'm surprised you're being so nice." Draco couldn't help but ask. "You wanted to bash my head in last night."

"That was before I knew you had defected." Ron said at a mumble, and then he surprised Draco further by sitting down next to him. "Why?"

Why indeed… He was tired of death. He was tired of war. He was tired of….well, everything. But he knew the biggest reason of all was a walking, talking female with bushy brown hair. But he couldn't exactly say that, now could he?

Draco sighed. "There's a time for everything, Weasley. This was it."

"Oh… Well, better late than never I guess."

"I suppose. But before we go skipping in solidarity and all that, I'm still an arse. Don't piss _me_ off and I won't piss _you_ off. Deal?"

Draco went as far as reaching out his hand for Ron to shake, but he couldn't have guessed what would happen next. Ron froze up. He _actually_ froze where he sat, rigid as a board with a vacant expression on his face. The blond hadn't seen him like this since he was still classified as Voldemort's puppet. It was almost as though he was Imperiused again except Draco hadn't done anything.

And _of course_ people would start trickling into the eating area to see the sight.

 _Damn it._

"What's wrong with him?" Bill immediately demanded once he saw his brother. He quickly stormed over and moved Draco out of the way to get to him. Draco didn't even mind the shove as he was still in disbelief at this rapid turn of events.

"What did you do, Malfoy?"

"Nothing!" Draco defended himself. "I didn't do anything, I just… I just put out my hand for him to shake."

"What are you shaking his hand for?" Dean accused from the background. Draco sneered at him.

"What? I need _special permission_?"

"Well, you did Imperius for two years. And that's exactly how he looks now! Bloody Imperiused!

"Malfoy," Seamus said as he pushed himself towards the crowd. "Exactly how did you go in to shake his hand?"

Draco furrowed his brow. "Sorry?"

"How'd you do it? Slow? Fast? Was your hand near your waist at all?"

"What the hell Finnegan? What does how I moved my hand got to do with anything?"

"Everything." Seamus said. "Look, my dad was a psychologist-"

"A psycho-what?"

"It doesn't matter. The point is that he'd help people who were...you know…a little wrong in the head."

Draco immediately felt his insides squirm.

"And I think you moving your hand –however way you did it –set him off."

Arthur stared between his clearly catatonic son and Seamus with worry engraved onto his face. "You really think so, Seamus?"

"I do. Think about it. Ron's seen Malfoy use his wand to Imperius him for _two years._ I think it's possible that just seeing him moving his wand or even his hand is a trigger and would make him believe that the Imperius was coming. His head's trained to react this way."

Draco frowned and looked back at Ron. Percy was by his side now trying to help Bill snap him out of his state. It wasn't working, and the blond felt guilty although he hadn't meant to do this on purpose.

"Do you…? Do you think if I moved my hand again that he'll come back?" Draco asked. Seamus shrugged sadly.

"I don't know. And to be honest? I wouldn't risk it. He came out of it on his own, so let's just hope that he does it again."

* * *

Adrian had been holding up a small vial with Blaise's blood in it to his eyes when he heard a knock on his door. He quickly slipped it into his pocket before asking who it was. He smiled once he realized that it was his favorite witch of the moment and told her to come in.

"Are you okay?" Daphne asked after shutting the door behind her.

"Yeah, fine. Just a little blood in the mouth is all."

Daphne frowned. "If that's your definition of 'fine' you need a better dictionary."

Adrian chuckled before sitting down in one of the armchairs his bedroom had to offer. Daphne walked over while anxiously wringing her hands.

"What did Blaise want?"

Adrian looked up at her. Daphne was a nice person. She didn't deserve to be lied to nor manipulated, but there was a bigger picture to think about here. If he told her the truth, it would only lead to more questions, and although her loyalty to Voldemort seemed shaky, there was no telling how strong she would hold up under scrutiny should she become suspected.

"I know something about him that he threatened me not to repeat to anyone. Particularly you."

Daphne tilted her head in surprise and took an unnoticeable step back. "Me? Why me?"

"Because…" Adrian sighed. "It… It involves Astoria."

Daphne's face hardened in a second and she stood perfectly erect. It was just the sort of reaction he had expected and was looking for. "What about my sister?"

"Daphne, I'm _really_ sorry. But he's the reason why your sister is missing. He killed her."

Daphne's face was quite heartbreaking to see. Her eyes had grown wide and immediately watered. Tears slipped down her cheeks as though a switch had been flipped and they were now on autopilot.

"What? How? _Why?_ Astoria's never done anything to anyone!"

"I know, and once again I'm sorry. Blaise and I were out drinking and he let it slip. Said he got rid of her in the middle of one of the streets in London. I thought he was drunk enough not to remember what he said, but it looks like I was wrong."

"But that still doesn't explain _why?_ " Daphne said with more tears streaming down her face. Adrian looked away and rubbed his arm. She caught onto that quickly and she hiccupped. "Adrian, you know. I know you do. Now tell me why!"

"Daphne, I don't think-"

"Tell me why, damn it!"

Adrian sighed. "He… He said that she was a horrible Deatheater and no one would miss her anyway."

Daphne's tears quickly stopped when her anger kicked in. "No one would miss her? No one would _miss_ her?! _I_ would miss her! She was my sister for bloody sake! I'll murder him!"

Adrian's face flashed in alarm as Daphne whirled around to leave his bedroom. Although the prospect of having Blaise dead would _thrill_ him, he was still needed. There'd be no way to know any pertinent information without him. Luckily for him, that's what kept him alive these days.

Adrian's hand latched onto her wrist to keep her from opening the door. "You can't kill him."

"Why not?!" She shouted at him. "He killed my sister!"

"And he killed my girlfriend." He reminded her and she calmed down –if only a smidgen. "I haven't killed him _yet_ because there's no one who can deliver punishment like the Dark Lord. Wouldn't you agree?"

Daphne gasped. "You're going to turn him over to him?"

"That's the idea. However, you know as well as I do that you don't just go up to him with nothing solid. I have to wait. _We_ have to wait."

"For how long?"

"Not too much longer, I hope. There's just something I need to check out first. I was going to handle all of this myself, but since you hate Blaise as much as I do right now...maybe you'll help too?"

"I'll do whatever you need me to." Daphne said eagerly.

Adrian smiled. "Thank you."

* * *

 **Author's note:** One step closer to finding the Hallows –or at least one of them! Poor Ron :(. And Adrian…Oh Adrian! Dipping into that Slytherin side of you….

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Karlie:** Well, it turns out that they did! More on Fiona with the next chapter!


	39. Now or Never

"We found it! We found it!" Hermione shouted the moment she and Charlie made it back to the base. Dennis had been there to pull the both of them in once they grew close to the shield, but she hardly paid him any mind. She just went screaming through the place to get any and everyone's attention.

"Found what?!" Dennis asked as he ran after her. A crowd started forming in the halls to her shouts and Hermione finally stopped running once everyone was in her sight.

"We found out where the invisibility cloak is."

"You're kidding." Seamus said after his mouth dropped. "How? We've been searching for the bloody thing for months and you find out where it is after one trip?"

"You wouldn't believe us even if we told you." Charlie said as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah? Try me."

"The owner of Chelf Press told us where it was." Hermione said. "He was… He's Ignotus Peverell's son."

"He can't be." Angelina gasped. "That story is centuries years old. He couldn't possibly be him!"

"Believe her, he is." Charlie said. "It's the fault of the Hallows. He used all of them and it seems like that magic tainted him. Stunted his age. He's still growing older but clearly at _much_ slower rate than he should."

"And if that's the case then You-Know-Who _cannot_ get his hands on them." Hermione piled on. "If he does can you just imagine the extended hell everyone will live in? With him as our ruler for…well essentially forever?"

"How'd he find the cloak?" Arthur asked.

"He's connected to them. He was able to sense where it was and it's in Italy. Florence, Italy. And hopefully it's still with Neville and Ginny."

"Then that's where we have to go." Bill nodded. "Two of us, maybe three. We can head down there and scope out the area. Once we have it and our friends we can come back here-"

"No, not here." Ginny interrupted. "Hogwarts. You… You need to go to Hogwarts."

"She's right." Hermione agreed. "This is it guys. Once You-Know-Who knows we're down there and that we've got the cloak, he'll come down on us harder than he's ever had before. It would be the perfect way to lure him to Hogwarts."

"Then we need to sit and really strategize." Padma suggested. "Figure out who's going to Italy, who's going to Hogwarts early to…to get Harry-"

"We've got to organize the ally network too." Dennis said. "Let them know what's going on."

"And get Ace," Arthur added. "We need to be able to coordinate travel for everyone."

"Alright, okay." Hermione nodded. "How about we take today to talk and to plan and see how soon we can put this into motion. Yeah? Where's Malfoy? He'll know how best to deal with the Deatheaters."

Hermione stared at them all as the excitement of what they were talking about died down. She frowned at their expressions while Charlie immediately picked up the change in atmosphere.

"What is it?" He asked. "What's happened?"

Seamus sighed. "There was…a minor incident."

Hermione's heart quickened. "Is Malfoy alright?"

"Malfoy's fine. It's not him. But unfortunately, Ron's catatonic again."

"What?" Charlie said as his face fell. "How?"

"Now look," Seamus began. "Before you get all jumpy it's not Malfoy's fault."

"So _you_ think." Bill murmured to himself.

"Ron's been traumatized, alright?" Seamus said. "For years. He saw Malfoy raise his hand and it triggered him. He hasn't said or done much since breakfast."

Charlie was fuming. "I'll murder him."

"Charlie, don't." Hermione said quickly before he could storm off and do something stupid. "Seamus is right."

"You don't know that."

"And neither do you since you weren't there." She argued. She sighed then before turning to everyone else. "Let's get together in about a half an hour, maybe? We'll have to contact Adrian for this."

Everyone nodded and muttered in agreement as they walked away. Charlie more or less _stomped_ away, but Hermione was less concerned with his well-being at the moment. She headed straight to Draco's room and entered it without knocking. He had been sitting on his bead with his head in his hands and talking. He didn't even realize that she had come into the room.

"What if he doesn't come out of it?" A pause. "You didn't see what he looked like." Another pause, and then he sneered. "You're too bloody optimistic. Not everything turns out alright just because you hope it does. And we need him to get to that bleeding basilisk fang!" He paused again and then sighed. "Yes, I'm sorry. I know you hate when I swear…"

Hermione swallowed and then cleared her throat. "Malfoy?"

Draco suddenly looked up, completely taken aback at seeing her in his room. "Are you hurt?"

"No. Not a scratch. It, um… It went better than expected. We know where the cloak is now. We have to contact Adrian and then do some heavy planning. We could very well be storming Hogwarts before the week is out."

"That's…good. That's really good, Granger." He took a deep breath then before finally getting to his feet. "Listen, something happened after you left-"

"I know." Hermione said as she went closer. "Seamus told me."

"Granger, I'm sorry. I'm _really_ sorry. I didn't mean to do it."

"Malfoy, you did nothing wrong." She tried her best to assure him. "You can't help what happens to a tortured mind. You and I should know better than anyone."

Draco clenched his jaw once and nodded. Hermione smiled a bit, having had one hard conversation done away with. Now here was the next.

"Malfoy, I have to ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me." Hermione took a deep breath and just blurted it out. "What did you say to Charlie?"

Draco furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why does he think that you've been, and I quote, parading me around like you own me? He's convinced that something is going on between us. Normally I wouldn't care but he's furious and we can't afford that right now. We need to work together more than ever and you can't be at each other's throats. Moreover, I don't like it when my friends are upset with me."

"Friend? _Friend?_ " Draco scoffed. "That man does _not_ want to be your friend. Any idiot can see that."

Hermione anxiously rubbed her arms. "You don't know our history."

"Then _enlighten_ me. Because right now he's acting like you mean everything to him."

"I _am_ everything to him."

"No, you really aren't." Draco contradicted with the strongest tone he'd ever taken with her. "What he is a whiny, jealous, dragon-loving arse trying to keep you away from me. You want to find someone who you _actually_ mean the world to? Then you're looking at him."

Hermione couldn't help but let her gaze fall to the floor. All she wanted to do at that moment was lock the door and kiss him silly. But she couldn't do that no matter how much she wanted to. Too much pride and certainly not under the current circumstances.

"Charlie's not the only one who's jealous here, Malfoy." Hermione found herself saying. "You… You can't lay claim on someone that you _don't_ have. I'm not saying that I plan to date him. Our time with each other passed a long time ago. " She sighed and placed her hand on the side of Draco's face and caressed it with her thumb. He closed his eyes briefly and sighed right along with her. "But you can't do what you've been doing and still act like you're not committed."

"Granger," Draco said softly as he opened his eyes. "I already told you that war and relationships don't work."

Hermione frowned. "Neither does this. It's all of me or none of me."

Draco was caught off-guard and took a step back. "You're not serious."

"I am. So think about it, will you?" Hermione said as she slowly headed towards the door. "And there's a meeting in a few minutes. We have to discuss our next steps."

Draco watched as she left and he hastily went to go after her but she wasn't anywhere in the hall. He looked left and right and didn't see anything except Angelina's retreating form.

"Get back here Johnson."

Angelina froze and slowly faced him with an awkward wave. "Hey, Malfoy. I was just-"

"What did you hear?"

"What makes you think I heard anything?" She asked innocently. "I was just passing by-"

"And indulging in gossipy habits." Draco finished for her. "Out with it."

Angelina bit her lip and glanced down the hallway she had seen Hermione take off. With a sigh she turned back to Draco and rolled her eyes.

"Hermione's right, Malfoy. You can't go playing the role of jealous boyfriend when you've made no commitment to her."

" _I_ _know_." Draco replied through gritted teeth. "But how do you expect me to do that? We're in a bloody war where one or the both of us could die any minute. You should know."

Angelina frowned. Draco regretted reminding her that her husband was dead, but he had to prove his point, and by Merlin's arse he did. The woman nodded solemnly, but she spoke her next words with a strength that belied her outward disposition.

"I did lose a loved one, yes. And yet despite how heartbroken I am over George every day, I wouldn't take back the three years we dated or the one year we spent married for all the peace in the world. Why? Because as tacky as it is to say, love is worth fighting for. It's worth having. I would've felt a whole lot worse knowing that George had died without us giving it a chance. Is that what you want, Malfoy? To live with regret?"

Draco was struck utterly speechless. Angelina was waiting for an answer, and he shook his head so subtly that he wasn't even sure if she'd seen it. Her hand on his shoulder told him that she had.

"Then do something about it. We're about to head into a battle that many of us aren't going to return from. It could be Hermione or it could be you. Hell, it could be both of you. Just…do something before it's too late."

* * *

Daphne was a scary witch when vengeance drove her. Adrian had his guilt and his doubts about the lie he'd told her to ensure her loyalty, but it had to be done. Maybe she'd forgive him one day. Maybe not. But for now she was a means to an end and, unfortunately, that's what had mattered most. By ten p.m. the latest she would begin getting Blaise liquored up. By ten-thirty she would take him to either his bedroom or hers and then distract him in the best and in the most naked way she knew how.

When Adrian's coin had heated up for an emergency meeting, he thought it perfect timing. He wasn't going to go after Fiona without first telling them what he'd stumbled upon, what he'd done, or what he was about to do. But when they told him that they had a plan to take down Voldemort once and for all, he had kept his mouth shut. He had sat down, numbly at that, and listened intently. His brows furrowed when they were supposed to, his mouth hung when appropriate, and he even gasped a few times. By the end of it he gulped and only had one thing to say:

"Okay, so let me get this straight." Adrian said as he stared at all of them through his mirror. "You want to go back to Hogwarts and dig up Potter. Not only that, you want to _lure_ Deatheaters, and the Dark Lord himself, to that location. And _on top_ of that, kill him with either a basilisk fang –not bloody likely –or the Sword of Gryffindor –the location of which is unknown –with the hopes that Potter's soul will just pop back into his body? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," they all answered. Adrian looked to Draco who shrugged.

"As you can see, we all have a death wish here."

Adrian sighed as he shook his head. Never in all his life was he so happy to have not been sorted into Gryffindor.

"When do you want to do this?"

"We were thinking maybe Friday." Ginny said. "We'll contact Georgie and Gavin like usual and it'll give them all day Thursday to help us organize the ally network."

"Okay, okay," Adrian nodded. "But I have a few bludgers to throw around to you guys that might alter a couple things."

Charlie frowned. "Like what?"

"For one thing, the Dark Lord isn't in London. Apparently he's travelling and I don't know where he is. I'm sure if you want to still float rumors he'll hear it, but the odds-"

"Travelling?" Draco repeated. His mind immediately went to the last time Voldemort was travelling. It'd been during Hermione and Angelina's escape. He'd been pissed because he had been called away from his travels. _In Italy._ "Oh hell,"

"What?" Hermione asked worriedly. "What is it?"

"The last time the Dark Lord was travelling it was to Italy. I interrupted his trip because of your escape. He _must_ have gone back there. It's the only logical thing."

Everyone's faces drained of color in that instant, suddenly realizing the obvious problem that was before them.

"He must know that the cloak is there." Padma swallowed. "That means if we go there-"

"You're walking right up to the devil's doorstep." Draco finished. "His top Deatheaters are going to be with him."

"Yeah, well, your top ally is going to be with you." Adrian said as an interlude to the next bludger. "I know you're not going to believe me at first, but… Guys, Fiona's not dead. Blaise lied."

Ginny's mouth flopped open. " _Come again?_ "

"It's crazy, I know, but long story short I found out that night Georgie, Gavin, and I got rid of the journal. Blaise didn't kill her. He faked her death and she's holed up in his summer home _in Italy._ So maybe… Maybe none of you have to go down there at all? No one would be expecting Fiona. She could find the cloak _and_ Neville and Ginny."

"Wait, wait, wait," Dean chimed in. "Time out. How did you even find all of this out? Certainly Zabini didn't just decide to clue you in on his antics."

Adrian felt his cheeks tinge and could already sense Draco's accusing eyes. "I... _might have_...used Legilimency on him."

" _You did WHAT?_ " Draco shouted at him. He had practically seized the mirror from whoever was holding it and held it up to his face. "You don't know the first _thing_ about Legilimency! That could've killed you, you stupid son of a-"

"Alright, alright! No need to scold me!" Adrian flinched. "I had enough of it from Gavin that night!"

Draco let out an exasperated groan and glared at him. "When we see each other again –because we _will_ see each other again –I'm kicking your arse. I _promise_ you."

Coming from the blond, Adrian considered that a term of endearment. The mirror shifted again and this time Arthur's face filled it.

"Is that the only news you have?"

Adrian's face fell. "No. There's something else and it concerns Draco specifically."

Draco arched his brow in confusion, but the look on Adrian's face stirred his gut and something told him he knew what he was about to hear.

"What is it?" Arthur prodded.

"Narcissa was captured."

That stirring in his gut, turned into a storm as every muscle in Draco's body weakened. Hermione could see it before it even happened and she rushed over to make sure that he sank to the floor gracefully instead of in one thump.

"I knew it." Draco said to himself. "I _knew_ something would happen to her. _I knew it._ "

"Malfoy," Hermione called to him as she kneeled by his side. "Malfoy, look at me."

But he wouldn't. Yes, his eyes were open. Yes, he was _technically_ staring at her, but she knew his tells. She knew when he was really "here" and right now he was mentally retreating. She absolutely _would not_ have him succumbing to his insanity in front of everyone. And so Hermione slapped his face hard enough to echo off the walls.

Draco blinked. He heard rather than felt when Hermione hit him. When he finally saw her, he saw _only_ her, and obviously he didn't care that other people were watching. He kissed her, and he didn't hold back despite their audience or the audible dropping of several objects. He kissed her lips the longest –with as much fervor as well as care as he'd done when they first met as strangers back at the inn. He kissed her neck once. Both of her cheeks, nose, and then forehead. Hermione couldn't help herself but laugh and then hold him in her arms as he held her back just the same.

"When Draco's done kissing his girlfriend let him know that I'll save his mother." Came Adrian's voice. The mirror (among the many objects that had fallen) lay unbroken on the floor. Thank Merlin for a Shatterproof Charm.

Percy quickly snatched up the mirror and looked into it. "You _knew_ about this?"

"Was _I_ supposed to tell you?" Adrian chuckled. "Just let him know, will you?"

"You can't save her alone. You're our last link to the inside and if this fails then we'll have no one."

"I'll go." Angelina said, her eyes going from a very cuddly Draco and Hermione on the floor and over to Percy and Adrian.

"Are you sure?" Percy asked.

"I am. My husband was killed in that place and the last thing he did was help Draco. It's only fair to repay that."

"That settles it then." Adrian said. "I'm going for Fiona tonight. I'll give her my coin too that way she can talk to you all."

"In that case I'll head to Edinburgh early." Angelina suggested. "Stay in the pub with Andy and Georgie. Adrian, when you're ready, you come get me. Deal?"

"Sounds good." Percy nodded before turning to the rest of the group. "Did you all get that?"

Considering that the majority of everyone was still watching Draco and Hermione hug and pet each other like nothing and no one else mattered, the answer was clearly no. Angelina smiled.

"We'll fill them in."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Alright folks! Although I haven't written it yet, I'm pretty sure that this is the last of the "calm" chapters we're going to get. That said, the war is ON! Not to mention that we're on our way to the end of the story. My guess? 4 or less chapters? Here we go :)

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Victoria:** Oh Adrian, how I love you. Falling right into Slytherin tendencies! We're coming to the climax!

 **Karlie:** When you're in a world full of snakes, manipulative better be your middle name! ;)


	40. Scattered

_London_

After being evicted from their home, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had purchased a new one. Still massive, albeit smaller in comparison to the one where the Dark Lord lay his head every night. Blaise liked this one. It looked new. Fresh. Less burdened with the cries of innocent people while they got murdered. Although, the air was still heavy with worry and anxiousness as Blaise finally found the man who owned the home sitting in a large armchair and nursing liquor in a short glass.

"Have you figured out a way to find my son?"

"No."

Lucius' lips curled into a snarl as he drained his glass. "What in Merlin's name is taking you so long?"

Blaise's anger flared as he stepped further into the room. "Well, _excuse_ me for not having the luxury of sitting at home and drinking myself silly all day."

"Last I heard you were well accomplished in doing that on a regular basis."

"Now you listen to me you-!"

"No, _you_ listen." Lucius interrupted as he stood. "Make no mistake _boy_. We may both be, but Deatheaters we are _not_ on the same level."

Blaise snorted. "Right. Because you're an 'upper level' Deatheater?"

"No. Because I'm twice, three times your senior and I will _not_ be talked down to by a child."

Blaise snapped his mouth shut. All at once he was reminded of the man who used to be responsible for him and Draco when he came over to visit. He sighed and rubbed a tired hand over his face.

"You called me here." Blaise said. "What for?"

"Aside to find out what progress you've made, I wanted to help." Lucius said as he urged Blaise to come closer. He was at a desk where a book lay open. "There may be a way to track Draco."

"How?"

"The Mark. The Dark Lord uses it to summon us. I see no reason why it can't be used to find out where someone is. You see this?" He pointed to a spell. "Perhaps it can be modified and adjusted for the Mark."

"Maybe," Blaise replied with a stroke of his chin "I mean it's worth a shot. However, I have a feeling that it won't work on him."

"Why not?"

"Occlumency. Draco's bloody brilliant at it. He's used to blocking out any and everything which may even include this. But…not Weasley."

"…Yes, yes. They're together now, aren't they? Find him, find Draco."

"That's right." Blaise said with a firm nod. "I'll take the book and work on it. Have you found somewhere for Narcissa yet?"

Lucius nodded. "I spent the day after seeing you working on it. I just have to put the final security measures in check so that no one can find her."

"Do it quickly. Once I find out where Draco is I'll gather every Deatheater who's still here and storm the place. That'll give you the freedom to get Narcissa out and then come where we are so no one notices that you're missing."

"And you're _sure_ that you can keep Draco alive? It'll be utter chaos there."

 _Am I?_

Blaise nodded. "He'll be fine."

* * *

 _The base_

Tuesday had been a long one. Although Friday had been designated as "War Day," they had wanted to be properly prepared early because Merlin knew nothing ever went exactly as planned. And so Ace was here getting a rundown of everything that might be needed –not to mention giving his favorite people early gifts. Coins to apparate any and everywhere without the high risk of splinching. Angelina would be using her early travel gift so that she could head to Newington once Adrian told her that Fiona's rescue had been accomplished. Bill and Padma would be heading to Italy to help with Hallow-Neville-Luna recon.

Charlie, Ginny, and Dean would all spread themselves out among their allies to help plan and get them organized between tomorrow and Thursday. Seamus and Percy would be going to Hogwarts before dawn Friday morning to get Harry. Arthur and Dennis would spend that same time getting what few students who still went to Hogwarts out and away from the castle. There were to be deaths on that day, but none them wanted it to be kids. And if missing students for morning breakfast didn't arouse suspicion from the Deatheater staff, then Bill and Padma causing a scene in Italy sure would. Their part in all of this was the most dangerous, _and_ they had to hide out well enough until it was time for the battle. However, if this wasn't possible, the simple word "forest" sent to everyone's coins would let them know that the plan had gotten moved up and to head to the Forbidden Forest immediately –ally network included.

Everyone except for Hermione that is. She would be running through the castle to the Chamber of Secrets to that fang –the _only_ thing that would be able to kill Voldemort. She only hoped that Ron would get out of his catatonic state soon.

"Well, it was worth a shot." Seamus frowned. Hermione was biting her nails furiously as she watched Draco lift his hand, sometimes holding his wand and other times not, within eyesight of Ron with the hopes of reversing what he'd done to him.

Nothing.

Draco was frowning just the same as he scratched his arm. "Is there honestly no other way into the chamber?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "It's meant to be open by Parsletongue. That's it. And I really doubt there's a way to blast through that enormous door."

"Sure about that?" Seamus asked with a crooked grin. "I _am_ pretty good at blowing things up."

Hermione smiled at him. "If Ron's still a no-go by War Day, then sure. We'll see if we can blow it up."

"And if you can't?" Draco asked. "This whole plan is under the assumption that the Dark Lord dies. If we can't do that then there's no point in following through."

"Aren't you a positive ray of sunshine." Seamus snickered. "What exactly does Hermione see in you again?"

Draco smirked. "Do you really want me to answer that, Finnegan?"

" _Malfoy,_ "

"What?" He smiled to Hermione. "He asked."

"And now I regret it." Seamus mock-shivered. "Hey, Malfoy, quick question. Does your Dark Mark always bother you?"

"What do you mean?"

He motioned to his arm. "You keep rubbing at it. Ron is too –catatonic or not."

Draco hadn't really noticed, but yes, he now realized that he was rubbing at his arm. But what he also noticed was that Ron wasn't just rubbing his. He was frantically scratching at it.

"That's… That's not right." Draco said as he pulled up his sleeve and looked down at his own arm.

"Do you think You-Know-Who's calling you?" Hermione asked. Draco quickly shook his head.

"What for? It's not like I'd go to him."

Seamus' face paled. "Maybe he's sending you a message somehow?"

Draco scoffed. "Like what? That he knows where I am at all times?"

Draco had meant for it to be a joke, but the other two people in the room immediately began to panic.

Hermione sputtered. " _Can the Mark do that?_ "

"I… I don't know." Draco replied as he felt his arm intensify with irritation, then he looked back at Ron. His scratching had grown more erratic. He'd tear his skin off if he wasn't careful. With an increased heartrate, Draco turned to Hermione and lifted his sleeve all the way up. "Burn it off."

"What?!"

"Burn it off, right now! Take Weasley's off just the same, Finnegan. Do it now!"

"It won't take away the Mark!" Hermione argued with him.

"It doesn't matter! It'll weaken whatever connection this may be. Just do it!"

Hermione took her bottom lip between her teeth and raised her wand. "I'm really sorry!"

Hermione pressed her wand onto his skin and Draco yelled. His teeth were clamped down tightly as her wand held the heat of flames and moved along the Dark Mark, burning off what little it could bit by bit and leaving behind marred skin. Ron was screaming out in agony just as he was. This was one sure way to bring him back to reality, although a less desirable one. Their combined shouts had captured everyone's attention in the base and soon there were people barging into the room to bear witness to the skin-defilement that was going on.

"What the hell are you guys doing?!" Angelina shouted.

"Everyone needs to leave." Draco panted from the floor. He had sank to the ground in pain and even now still couldn't get up although Hermione had finished. "There's a _really_ good chance that Deatheaters know where we are."

* * *

 _Edinburgh_

Daphne knew when Blaise had returned to the castle because his bedroom wasn't far from hers. Adrian had given her very specific instructions on what to do concerning him. She was supposed to use her "feminine talents" to keep him occupied for as long as possible. But the only thing she could think about was how much she wanted to hurt him. No, not hurt. _Kill._ She wanted to murder the bastard who had killed his sister and this would prove to be the best time to do it. Adrian would forgive her if things didn't go according to plan, wouldn't he? Besides, Blaise had killed Fiona too. It would be revenge for both of them. Perfect.

Blaise, on the other hand, had no idea of the murderous intent she had for him. He'd had a busy day and spent the latter portion of it within Lucius' home trying to get the spell to work. It wasn't until now –less than two hours before midnight –that something had come out of it. Or at least he hoped. Although he was still certain the spell wouldn't have much (if at all) of an effect on Draco, he had decided to work it on both Weasley and him just to be safe. The spell required charming an object that would eventually help to point him in the right direction. He had chosen a fist-sized globe of the earth for such purposes.

Due to his _memory loss_ , he wasn't sure if he had gone to see Fiona last night or not. He wanted to do it today –especially because his mother was supposed to be returning to their home soon. However, finding Draco had been priority. There was a chance that she wouldn't spend much time in the house to begin with, but Blaise wasn't one to take such chances. Fiona would have to be moved.

"You look stressed."

Blaise looked up. He hadn't even realized that his feet had taken him to his bedroom already. Daphne was there and leaning in the doorframe of her room.

"Troubles figuring out Draco's journal?"

 _Draco's journal?_ _Was that something Pucey had taken away from me? Must've been…_

"Yeah," he lied as he continued his way past her and to his bedroom. "But I'll find him soon enough."

"I'm sure you will." Daphne smiled. "But not tonight."

Blaise paused his walking and looked back. "Sorry?"

"I said you looked stressed. Doing more work isn't going to help you with that."

Despite the seriousness of what he needed to do at the moment, Blaise found himself intrigued by the witch who had been sulking over her dead sister for days. But today? She looked…fresh. Like she had woken up and decided to stop pitying herself or her predicament.

"Are your intentions to distract me, Miss Greengrass?"

 _Even his "S's" slither like the snake that he is…_ Daphne thought furiously. But instead she kept her outward demeanor friendly and she nodded.

"I do. So, my only question for you is whether it's your bedroom or mine?"

"Yours," Blaise grinned. "Just give me a moment."

"Of course,"

Daphne slid back into her room while Blaise went to his. He hadn't even kissed her yet and already he felt the stress he was under melt away from him. If he was being honest with himself, were they not in a war and the notion of time meant something, he could actually find himself liking her for more than just her body. But alas, that wasn't the world they lived in. And so, he would take what he could get.

Blaise reached into his pocket for the globe in order to set it on his dresser. Once it was there, he stood frozen. The globe wasn't as he had left it. Whereas it was once color-coded for different countries and tons of blue to signify the oceans, only _one_ thing was visible now. When he used a spell to magnify the tiny spot on the globe, he read it out loud.

"Pent…land…Hills. Bleeding hell… The resistance is in Pentland Hills. _Draco's in Pentland Hills!_ "

Blaise rushed out his bedroom and began yelling down the halls. "Grab your wands! Grab your wands! We've got to go _now!_ "

"What's going on?" Tracey asked as she came down the hall followed by Goyle and Pansy.

"I found Draco _and_ the resistance." Blaise said. "Goyle, head to Malfoy Manor. Round up every Deatheater still there and summon others if you have to. We're going after them _tonight_. Where the hell is Pucey?"

"Don't know." Pansy shrugged. "Haven't seen him for a while now."

Blaise's suspicion of him was through the roof right now, but he couldn't focus on that particular pain in the arse. One arse at a time.

"Pentland Hills. That's where they are. Get going!"

Everyone sprinted off while Blaise turned on his heel at the feel of a hand on his shoulder.

"Daph, what are you standing around for? Didn't you hear what I-?"

Small and petite, but Daphne had a punch the strength of ten men. Blaise staggered back in surprise, soon rigid as a board when she put a body bind on him. He wanted to yell at her. Ask her what the hell she was doing. But he couldn't speak. Instead he had to look up at as she stood over him, a wicked and disturbing smile on her lips.

"Everyone else can handle the resistance and Draco." Daphne said as she kneeled down beside him and stuck her wand in his throat. "But you and I have business to attend to."

* * *

 _The base_

"What do you mean you were tracked?!" Dean questioned Draco.

The blond was getting his arm bandaged by Padma and he was grinding his teeth in agony. Despite all the balms put on it beforehand, it still didn't help. It felt like he had stuck his arm in a fire and that it was still there. Ron was getting his arm looked at too –but he was in a different room with his family. He'd been snapped out of his trance alright, but now he had questions about why his skin had been seared off. Lying to him about the Dark Mark and what had happened to him was _definitely_ coming back to haunt them.

"I don't know if we really were, but we can't risk it." Draco told him. "There's no other reason for a Dark Mark to react the way that it did unless it had something to do with summoning."

Hermione was biting her nails furiously as she exchanged looks with Seamus, Angelina, Ace, and Dennis.

"It's better safe than sorry." She said with an anxious sigh. "We need to go."

"Where are we going to go?" Dennis asked. "It's too early to go to our posts."

"We planned early for a reason." Hermione reminded him. "Besides, if Deatheaters _really_ know where we are, we're not going to have a-"

Hermione stopped.

Three things all happened at once that made every get on high alert. First there was a chill in the air. Second, there was a huge cracking sound before a loud _bang!_ –evidence of the wards on the base breaking. Third, there was a shout.

"Ready or not, you all need to go." Ace said as he held his wand tightly. "Angelina, go to Newington. You, Georgie, and Andy have to get the ally network ready. I'll do my part too."

Angelina nodded and with her coin from Ace in hand she disappeared from sight. Seamus opened the bedroom door and the chaos that everyone feared was waiting for them hit them in full force with the sound of shouts, things and people falling over, and chunks of debris.

Hermione and Draco followed everyone out and they could hear Ginny somewhere in the distance yelling, "Find your partners! Find them and go!"

"We have to get to Ron!" Hermione said to Draco and he took her hand began running through the base. They rounded a corner after hopping over an unconscious Deatheater and backed themselves against the wall when a spell jetted across them.

"Traitor!" shouted a familiar voice. Despite the desperate situation, Draco couldn't help but smile.

"Good to see you on your legs again, Uncle. Your recuperation went well, I take it?"

Rodolphus snarled as he casted the Killing Curse. Hermione yanked Draco by the collar so they could hit the floor before she performed a Leg-Locker Curse on him and watched as he tripped over himself.

"Let's go!" Hermione urged and she and Draco were off again. "I'll take that!" She added as she summoned Rodolphus' wand in her hand. They passed Bill punching Goyle in the face before Padma grabbed his arm and disapparated with him. Dean was bleeding from the mouth and developing a black eye, but one swift swish of Draco's wand knocked his attacker back on his arse so that Dean could take off.

Draco and Hermione skidded to a halt when they made it to where Ron was and Draco aimed his wand at the man who was hovered over the redhead's unconscious form.

"Back away from him." Draco sneered.

Lucius stood up and faced his son. Time seemed to have slowed down –both parties waiting to see who would deliver the first blow. With Hermione by his side, he knew he had to make the right decision. No matter how hard it was.

"Stupefy!" Draco shouted. Lucius fell limp back into the bedroom and Hermione rushed over to Ron's side, one hand grasping his and her other slipping into Draco's. The three of them disapparated and landed in a place that neither of them thought they would ever be again.

The Forbidden Forest.

Just as they thought, _nothing_ goes according to plan. They only hoped that Adrian was having better luck than they were.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Yup, things are going down... And here comes a side note as an author because writing the rest of this _hopefully_ won't be as hard as I think. A lot of things that happen are all, generally speaking, going to be happening all at once but just in different locations. I hope the location tags I put at top of everything help clarify that. Up next we'll see how Adrian, Angelina, Bill and Padma are fairing (among other things)!

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Guest:** Got that right he claimed it lol! Hope this chapter satisfied you as part one of an ongoing war :)


	41. In Position

_Italy_

Adrian had always wanted to go to Italy. Of course, he had wanted it to be under different circumstances, but for now this would have to do.

Eliza had come back for him just as he had asked her to and brought her to the Zabini summer home. Massive, as he had expected, but he didn't envy Blaise one bit. With wealth came problems. People knew you. People wanted to get in good with you for all the wrong reasons. Money made more problems than it solved and Adrian had rather be piss poor and happy than rich and miserable. In real life he and his family had been at a comfortable middle.

"Miss Carrow is right through that door, Mister Pucey." Eliza told him. Adrian thanked the house elf before she disappeared from his sight. He was so close, and yet he was still so scared. A part of him still thought that all of this was fake. That Blaise had tricked him on an epic scale and an ambush would be waiting for him just inside the room.

 _Yes, that would be perfect, wouldn't it? A wonderful way to end this horrid tale._

Adrian held his wand tightly and pointed it at the doorknob. "Alohomora,"

The door clicked open, he took a deep breath before finally entering, and Adrian felt his heart explode. There she was. Fiona. Pacing her (rather nice) bedroom and taking her nails between her teeth. She hadn't even realized that he had entered the room. All he wanted to do was run up and hug her. To take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. And he ran for it too. Adrian ran straight ahead, completely forgetting that there would be a barrier preventing him from doing so and fell back onto the ground.

"Damn it!"

Fiona turned to the voice she hadn't heard in almost a full week. She fell where she stood in disbelief and crawled over to where the barrier kept her in. "Adrian? Adrian, you… You found me. You really found me."

Even her voice made his heart melt. Adrian crawled just as she did and placed his hands on the outside of the barrier, hers perfectly matching his and almost touching.

"You're not dead." Adrian breathed. "You're not dead, and this isn't a dream."

Fiona laughed and felt tears trickling down her face. "It's not a dream. Blaise he-"

"I'll murder him." He seethed. "Alive or not what he did to you was completely unacceptable. He'll pay for that."

"No! You can't!" Fiona said frantically. "He's the only one aside from you on the Dark Lord's side who can help Draco."

"What? Are you nuts?"

"I promise you that I'm not crazy. Blaise only faked my death and kept me here because he's a selfish _arse_ and if I die so does he."

Adrian's brow had already been furrowed, but now even more so. "Fiona, I don't understand. What are you-?"

"Long story short, Blaise made an Unbreakable Vow with Andrew to keep me safe during this whole mess of a war. As for Draco, he's his best friend. Despite how it looks he doesn't want him to die. He only headed up the search for him so he could get to him first and fake his death like he did with me."

Adrian's mouth flopped open. He couldn't believe a single word of what he was hearing. But then again, he thought his girlfriend had been dead. He stared at her, the look of earnestness on her face and knew that she was telling the truth without a doubt. An unbelievable truth, but he was living in a world where the Deathly Hallows _actually_ existed. He really shouldn't be one to doubt anything.

"What's been happening with the Order?" Fiona asked. That question snapped Adrian back to reality and his face turned serious.

"A lot. Much too much to give you a shortened version. What you _do_ need to know is that we're taking the fight to the Dark Lord. And, once I get you out of here, you have to find Bill and Padma."

"O…kay. Where are they?"

"Here in Italy. Or at least they will be soon." Adrian took a deep breath and just blurted it out. "They found it, Fiona. They found one of the Hallows. Potter's cloak."

Fiona gasped. "You're serious? And it's here?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, so is the Dark Lord with his top Deatheaters. You're going to have to be careful. _Very_ careful while you're here."

Fiona nodded eagerly. "I will. I have no intentions of dying for real. But, um, how are we going to get out of here? Not to mention do it before Blaise barrels through the house? He usually checks in on me at night."

"You leave that to me." Adrian smiled as he took out a vial from his pocket. "Besides, Daphne should be well on her way to distracting him for me by now."

"Distracting Blaise? Just how is she-?" Fiona paused and her eyes grew. "Don't tell me that she's…? _Really?_ "

"Can you think of a better way to keep him occupied?"

"I… I suppose not. That's some serious commitment. Why would she agree?"

Adrian had the decency to look a bit guilty as he fidgeted where he knelt. "Well, let's just say that she would do anything against him at this point. I told her that he killed her sister."

" _You did what?!_ "

"I know! I know! It was terrible and I feel awful about it. But I needed a surefire way to get her onto my side without letting her know everything that's been going on. It worked well enough."

Fiona frowned. "Merlin… In that case I hope she never finds out the truth. _I'm_ the one who killed Astoria."

"What?" Adrian asked in true astonishment. "Why?"

"She was already dying. I had found her bleeding out on the ground. It was a mercy killing."

Adrian swallowed. "If that's it then we're _both_ responsible for her death. I cast a spell at her to stop her from killing Draco. She must've hit her head when she went down. It was a bit too chaotic to pay attention honestly…"

Fiona opened her mouth to reply when she suddenly let out a yelp. She had still been leaning against the barrier, but all of a sudden it fizzled and she went right through. She landed on top of Adrian and they both stared at each other in surprise, but also happiness because they hadn't been this close in so long.

She gulped. "The barrier… It's been holding strong for days. How could it just disappear?"

Realization hit Adrian hard. "Daphne,"

"Daphne?"

"Yes!" Adrian said as he sat up. "I had my suspicions that the barrier keeping you in here was a blood barrier. It's connected to Blaise."

Fiona's eyes widened as she suddenly came to the same conclusion. "Which means if Blaise goes, so does the barrier."

Adrian nodded. "Daphne's killing Blaise –if he isn't dead already."

* * *

 _Edinburgh_

Blaise had seen Daphne angry before, but this…this was different. She was a calm sort of angry –deriving a sick sort of pleasure at the predicament that he was in.

And what a predicament it was.

Blaise was currently charmed to his bed. His hands and feet tied to the bedposts. Were he not _actually_ afraid for his life, he might find his situation an attractive one. Him, immobilized. A beautiful woman on the bed with him and sitting between his spread legs. It was a dream. But not when the woman was off her rocker and holding her wand in a way that made your stomach turn.

"Isn't it funny," Daphne began, "how one day you can like someone and then hate him on sight?"

"Daphne," Blaise tried to plead with her. "What is this all-?"

"Silencio!"

Blaise fell quiet. She smiled as she twirled her wand gently in her hand.

"You're not allowed to speak. _I am._ Now, where was I? Oh, that's right." Daphne said pleasantly as she flicked her wand once.

His shirt was ripped open and she used her free hand to spread the halves of it away from his chest and torso. She lay the tip of her wand just under his collarbone and Blaise immediately began to panic. He remembered this. He remembered this _exact_ situation except that it was _he_ who was holding the wand and it was an Imperiused Granger at the end of it. But Daphne wouldn't do what he'd done, would she? She couldn't. She just… _she couldn't._

But he was very, very wrong.

Blaise's skin split open as Daphne's wand went down at a slow and steady pace. He screamed but no words came out. What was worse is that he _wanted_ it to be loud. His body's natural instinct was to scream away the pain. Anything to combat the torture that he was going through, but he couldn't. Instead his mouth was open as wide as he could get it as his body arched.

Suddenly Daphne stopped and tilted her head slightly. "I'm sorry. Did that hurt? It was a bit unclear seeing as I couldn't hear you."

The Silencing Charm was lifted from him and Blaise gasped. He could feel his wounds and they were long and they were deep. Blood trickled down his sides and pooled there. He panted as it stung.

"Why…? Why are you doing this?"

"You know why." She said coldly. She leaned over him and whispered in his ear, "And I'm going to make you pay for it."

Daphne scrambled off of the bed and raised her wand. "I've always had to look away whenever the Dark Lord tortured someone. But you never did, did you? Maybe you know how much a person bleeds out with your sort of injuries while being Crucio-ed."

Blaise's eyes widened. "No. Daphne, no!

"Crucio!"

The Cruciatus Curse was a terrible fate to wish on anyone on a regular day. It felt like being dipped in acid, or knives cutting into you, or your blood boiling. His body rose off of the bed and he wanted to thrash, but he couldn't because of how well tied down he was. But that was just the general notion of it. Daphne had cut severely into his chest with crooked lines as well as onto his stomach. He had already been bleeding, but the addition of the Cruciatus Cruse was making it worse. His skin was splitting open even further and he was bleeding out at a faster pace.

Daphne stopped and Blaise's body spasmed violently. When he breathed it hurt. Was it possible that he had fractured a rib? Was that blood in his mouth? Before he could properly assess what injuries he might have had, his torturer cast the curse _again._ This time he bit down on his tongue hard enough to bite it off. He could clearly taste the blood now and between that and his saliva it was choking him. His eyes were tearing and his throat was raw from his screaming. And there was _no one_ here to help him because they were all off in Pentland Hills fighting the resistance. Where he should be in order to keep Draco's arse out of trouble.

Curse off.

Curse on.

Curse off.

Curse _on._

Blaise felt weak. His bed was soaked with his blood by now and he felt the red liquid central to his life dribbling down his cheeks. Every time he blinked the world seemed darker. Dreamier, as though he was falling asleep. Perhaps that could explain what he thought he was seeing. Someone bursting into the room. That same someone wrestling Daphne's wand away from her. There was a bit of light too. A Stunning Charm? He didn't know. He was so far gone from this world it was miracle he could feel anything at all –like someone undoing the binds on his hands and feet.

* * *

After so long apart Adrian didn't want to leave Fiona's side, but they had to think of the bigger picture. They only hoped that when this was all over that they'd be alive so they could get started on the life they were meant to live together.

Fiona went her way and Adrian went his. His journey included a frantic run through the castle and to Daphne's room, but he didn't have to go into hers. His body chilled at the horrifying screams that were coming out of Blaise's bedroom and he ran straight to it. His imagination didn't come even _close_ to the monstrosity that he would see when he opened Blaise's bedroom door.

Adrian remembered when he thought Fiona was dead. He remembered how angry he was and that he had wanted to mutilate Blaise to the brink of death. Daphne had just carried out his fantasies and, if he was being honest, he felt sick to his stomach. There was just…so much blood. It was unnatural.

Daphne had been so preoccupied with her torture that she hadn't noticed when he had come in. She had raised her wand again and Adrian pounced on her. He grabbed her from behind and startled her, but with one arm around her waist and his free hand around her wrist, they were fighting each other.

"Let go!" She yelled. "Let go of me, damn it!"

"No!" Adrian yelled back. Daphne was struggling hard against him, but he squeezed and twisted her wrist enough to make her drop her wand. She elbowed him in the stomach and he grunted as he let her go. She whirled around in fury, but he already had his own wand up.

"Stupefy!"

Daphne was limp and on the ground within seconds. Adrian took a deep breath before looking over at Blaise and becoming sick all over again. He didn't vomit though, and that was a magnificent feat. Instead he walked over to the bed, becoming even more disturbed at the sight the closer the got. The first thing he did was to clean up all the blood. Once cleared, he undid the binds. Blaise had been carved up in a way that seemed inhuman. Adrian began to think of Hermione and he wondered if this was what she had looked like after this bastard had taken a knife to her. Karma, so it seemed, was completely real.

Blaise was still bleeding. He would die of it if not properly tended to, but Adrian couldn't be the one to do it. Aside from the fact that a small part of him still thought he deserved it, the other bigger part was telling him that he had somewhere to be.

"Eliza!" Adrian called. The helpful little house elf was at his side in a second. She was happy to see him, but then mortified when she saw the state of Blaise.

"He needs help, Eliza." He said to her. "Can you help him?"

Eliza nodded solemnly. "Yes, Mr. Pucey. Eliza can help her Master Zabini."

Adrian nodded his thanks before politely asking if she could take care of Daphne too by putting her in her room. Knowing that they were both well-taken care of, he made his way out of Edinburgh Castle and apparated to the Newington pub that had become his second home as well as his safe haven. For the first time since…well, since ever, the pub was empty. It was completely, utterly _empty._ Adrian had had his wand by his side, but now he had it raised level with his chest for the first sign of an attack.

"Adrian,"

He turned around quickly and then breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Andy. What's going on? This place is a right ghost town."

"Yeah, well, once Angelina got here and told us what had happened at the base, we decided to close up shop early."

Adrian's panic skyrocketed. "What happened at the base?"

"Mayhem. Pure and utter mayhem. Deatheaters found out where their base was."

"They did _what?!_ "

Andy nodded solemnly before motioning for him to follow. "It had something to do with the Mark." He explained. "Malfoy thinks they were tracked that way. Him and Ron."

"Tracked? How could you use the Dark Mark to track someone?"

"I don't know, but it worked. Everyone had to scramble. This You-Know-Who ambush is going to happen _a lot_ earlier than expected."

Adrian gulped as he and Andy went downstairs to the hidey-hole. It was a full house down there with Georgie and Gavin, not to mention Angelina who ran up to hug him.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" Angelina said as she nearly broke his back. "With the attack, I wasn't sure if you were found out."

"I'm fine, I promise. Blaise does know a bit too much about me, but we don't have to worry."

Angelina stared at him oddly. "Is he dead?"

"No," Adrian shook his head. It was partly to answer her question and also to rid his recent imagery of Blaise. "But he's still down for the count."

"If you say so."

"Was he telling the truth?" Georgie suddenly asked. "About Fiona?"

Adrian smiled. "He was. I sent her off to find Bill and Padma so they could tackle Italy on their own."

"In that case both of you need to go to Malfoy Manor right now." Gavin advised. "Who knows what hell is going to happen in Italy and how soon Hogwarts is going to turn into a war zone. Angelina's already explained what you guys have planned out. We'll work on what we've got to organize whoever we can."

"Thanks, Gavin." Angelina smiled. "When you're ready use the coins I gave you to get to Hogwarts. Forbidden Forest. That's where we're all headed."

Everyone nodded and then they all went their way, including Angelina and Adrian who apparated to Malfoy Manor. They had been immediately on their guard, but apparently there had been no reason to be. It was empty, just like the pub. Granted, there could've been a Deatheater or two still lingering around this massive home, but the eerie, chilling quiet told them otherwise.

"The dungeons are here." Adrian said as he led her away from the foyer and towards a hall that would eventually lead them to a door to the dungeons. The door opened silently and the two of them quickly made it to the final stair and entered the long, dark corridor filled with cells. They spotted Narcissa almost immediately, but what they _hadn't_ expected, was to see her _out_ of her cell and being led by the hand by her husband.

Resistance member, traitor, and Deatheater all raised their wands. No one moved.

"What are you doing?" Adrian asked, although it seemed quite obvious.

Lucius huffed and then smirked soon afterwards. "I should be asking you the same question. Cavorting about with the resistance, are you? Your generation knows nothing of loyalty."

"Seems like you don't either."

Lucius' grip on his wife's hand tightened as he snarled. "Move."

"No." Angelina voiced with a firm hand on her wand. "We're not going without her."

Narcissa's brows were high on her head at that. "Me? What do you want with me?"

"Not us. Your son. We promised him to get you out."

Narcissa wasn't the only one who was in shock. Lucius, ever stoic and sneering, finally let emotions run free on his face as he stared at his wife's supposed rescuers.

"You came here to save her?" Lucius asked in astonishment. "Why?"

"Because Malfoy's our ally."

"And our friend," Adrian added. "We keep our promises."

Lucius and Narcissa glanced at each other. They spoke volumes to each other without actually saying anything before one nodded and the other gave a deep, frustrated sigh.

"I was taking her to a small cottage in the Netherlands." Lucius said. "It's properly warded so no one should find her. I'm going to your base to find Draco and bring him there whether he likes it or not." He sighed once more before giving what one would suppose as an affectionate expression to his wife. "If _anything_ happens to her trust my word that I will kill you."

Adrian inclined his head. "Duly noted."

Lucius rattled off the address of the cottage before he slipped his wife her wand and disapparated from the dungeons. Adrian looked at Narcissa and reached out his hand to her.

"Come on. Let's get you to the cottage and then-"

"Do you really think Draco's still at the base?" Narcissa asked. Adrian gave a side look at Angelina before she shrugged nervously.

"I don't know. It was chaos when Deatheaters started storming the place. We were all leaving-"

"Leaving where?" She questioned urgently. "Wherever Draco is that's where I'm going."

"Mrs. Malfoy, I don't think-"

"I could care less about what you think." Narcissa snapped at Adrian. "Draco is _my son._ I won't hide out somewhere while his life is on the line. Take me to where he is _right now._ "

Adrian appealed to Angelina who stared between both him and the woman who had a look of determination worthy of a medal.

"Lucius _and_ Malfoy are going to kill you if you bring her." Angelina warned him. "You do realize that, don't you?"

Adrian turned back to Narcissa who for the first time he realized her wand was in her hand. "Yeah, I know. But something tells me _she'll_ kill me if I don't. I think I'd prefer my death to be later rather than sooner. Let's go."

* * *

 _Forbidden Forest_

The forest was darker than Hermione remembered. The trees were so tall and so thick that it was hard to see the sky. It was like they were enveloped in the night and it made everything that they were about to do seem even more dangerous.

"He's just unconscious." Draco said as he stood. "Probably a Stunning Spell or something."

Hermione looked down at Ron. Despite essentially being asleep his face looked tormented. As well it should. He had just been told what had happened these past two years _and_ about the Mark. She had a feeling that when he woke up there wouldn't be a very good greeting between him and Draco.

"Malfoy, about your father-"

"Forget it." He curtly responded. "I don't need to think about him right now."

At that Hermione kept quiet. Neither of them needed to be distracted right now and they needed to stay focus on the task at hand.

"We need to find the others." She said as she took in her surroundings. "Regroup and then get going."

"Fair enough. We should wake him though," Draco gestured to Ron. "I'm not lugging around dead weight."

Hermione agreed and took out her wand. She had more than one spell ready on her lips because she just _knew_ that Ron would want to pounce on him the moment he opened his eyes. However, she did nothing. A loud, booming voice broke the dense quiet and startled them both.

"Deatheaters are not allowed in our forest!"

Hermione immediately recognized the voice and she quickly wrapped her arms around Draco to shield him from any impending arrows.

"Firenze, no! He's with us! Don't hurt him!"

Firenze, bow raised and ready to fire, paused his actions. His eyes focused on Hermione, covering as much of Draco as she possibly could. The blond himself was trying his hardest to shield her as well –a shocking action to the centaur, if he didn't say so himself.

"With you?" He repeated, his bow still raised.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, with us. He's defected, I swear to you."

With obvious reluctance Firenze lowered his bow and arrow. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief while Draco stared between her and the centaur and huffed.

"Friends with centaurs, are you?" Draco said. "You surprise me every day."

"Now is not the time to piss off a centaur." Hermione hissed at him before turning back to Firenze. "How's Harry?"

Firenze's face softened at the mention of him and he gave her a soft nod. "Safe. We have kept watch over him just as you and your friends asked. He has not been disturbed."

"Thank you."

"Anything for the Boy Who Lived." Firenze smiled. "Now, may I ask why you are here?"

"You-Know-Who." Hermione answered. "We're bringing the battle to him, Firenze."

"Here?" He said in surprise. "On Hogwarts grounds?"

"Yes. Not the best location, I know, but believe me when I say that it was necessary. So is Harry's body."

Firenze immediately straightened his back. "What do you need from me?"

"Gather everyone you know and join in the fight?" Hermione asked with hope. "Some of the resistance will be getting what students remain to safety. Others will be getting Harry's body. Some of us are here already, but _much_ more will be coming."

"I will do everything I can." Firenze agreed. "What will be the signal of attack?"

"Shouting and screaming,"

Half-sarcastic and half-honest was her reply, but Firenze took her at her word and rode off. Hermione was thankful for her friend and grinned at his back before turning again to Ron who was still unconscious on the ground.

"Alright, let's get this-"

"It's so similar."

Hermione looked at Draco who was holding up her apparating coin she had gotten from Ace. "What does?"

"This coin from Ace." Draco replied. "It looks so much like the one from the Dark Lord. He never told us where he'd gotten them from –not that I expected he would. But maybe…"

"Malfoy," Hermione said tentatively. "Exactly what are you saying?"

"I'm not saying anything. Just…wondering."

"Wondering _what?_ "

"If it's remotely possible that the same man who knows about your bases is the same man who made apparating coins for the Dark Lord's use. If that's the case-"

Hermione started to panic. "Then he's the informant who told about the Order's London base."

Draco nodded. "He's also the same man who's alone with Weasley's sister, and responsible to help organize the rest of the ally network."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Karma is certainly real! I bet Blaise wishes he didn't do anything to Hermione now. And Ace… Well, turns out he's not so loyal. Bill and Padma in the next chapter. I promise this time! Fiona's finally free!

-WP

Replies to Guests

 **Karlie:** Hope that you liked this one! :)


	42. It Begins

Ginny and Ace had gone to Leeds. It was one of ten ally network spots they had throughout the UK, and that didn't even include the people who littered the streets or abandoned houses just to keep their eyes and ears out for anything they could use. The rest of the apparating coins they had were in two pouches. Between the two of them they would apparate to the different spots and give them out, detailing instructions on meeting points at Hogwarts and what the two main goals of this operation would be: kill Voldemort and get Harry's soul back.

Easy?

"Good to see you, Ginny." Said Thackery, the owner of the small inn they were currently occupying. "So it's really happening, huh? We're taking him down?"

"That's the hope." Ginny replied with a firm nod. "Although, you have to keep your mind open Thacks. If things don't go the way we want today, we're _all_ exposed."

"I understand. It's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Thank you. So, here's your coin. How many do you need extra again?"

"Three. For the two 'drunks' who keep fighting a few blocks away from this place and the 'blind woman' who asks for spare Knuts around the corner."

Ginny smirked. "Clever."

Ginny put three extra coins in Thackery's hand. One spot down, nine more to go. She was about to confirm with Ace about which spots he was going to hit when her messaging coin heated up in her pocket. She took it out, her eyes narrowing in confusion as she read what Hermione had sent her.

 _Ace Informant Don't Trust_

"Something wrong?" Thackery asked her. Ginny ignored him. Ace was in her eyesight, staring out the window with a pensive expression. She didn't wait. She stomped her way over to him with her wand drawn first.

"Incarcerous!"

Ace didn't have time to react as binds erupted from Ginny's wand and covered him.

"Ginny!" Ace wriggled. "What's going on?"

She refused to answer. Instead she had her messaging coin in her hand and her fingers were going wild.

 _How know?_

 _Coin same. Draco's._

 _Coin?_

 _Apparate. YKW_

"Ginny," Ace called again. "What are you doing? Thackery," he appealed to the man who was looking with just as much confusion. "Something's wrong with her. Something must-"

"Why is Hermione under the impression that you're the informant who's responsible for our London base getting attacked?"

" _What?_ " Thackery gasped in the background. Ace, on the other hand, stopped his fussing and grew quiet.

"I don't know where she'd get that assumption."

"Oh no? What about the other assumption that you're the one who supplied Deatheaters with apparating coins?"

"Gin-"

"Deny it, Ace." She dared. "Deny it and tell me that Hermione's wrong."

Instead of doing as she asked, Ace's face morphed into one of self-disappointment. Ginny let her mouth fall open as she had sincerely hoped that Malfoy (for the information could have come from no one other than him) was wrong.

" _How could you?!_ "

"Please," he begged. "You have to understand-"

"Understand what?! That you betrayed us? That you've been playing both sides all this time? Hell, were you _ever_ on our side?!"

"If I wasn't on your side I wouldn't have given you what you needed whenever you called."

"Then what the hell?!" Ginny shouted at him. She then shook her head in disgust as she took a step back. "Your family would be ashamed of you."

Ace, a perfect picture of repentance and guilt, turned rigid and glared at her. "I've done what I have _for_ my family."

Ginny snorted. "Oh really? You must sleep so well at night knowing what you did to us. All the people we lost. How scattered we became…"

"You-Know-Who captured my family shortly before the disaster in London." Ace said firmly. Ginny, just for a moment, forgot to be mad at him. "You-Know-Who knew all about me and what I did. In exchange for their lives he wanted something in return, so I…"

"Traded our lives for your family's." She finished. "You should've told us. We could've helped."

"You couldn't help us. That sick monster had a Deatheater watching them, waiting to kill them if I screwed up. I had to do what was best. I still do."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Still? Ace...what have you done?"

With a guilty swallow he turned his gaze to the floor. "I told You-Know-Who about Bill and Padma and what they're doing in Italy."

* * *

 _Italy_

When Bill had disapparated with Padma from the base and to the heart of Florence, Italy, neither had fully expected the ruckus that would arise from the sound of apparation. They had ducked into the nearest alley and cast Disillusionment Charms on themselves so the few Snatchers and two noteworthy Deatheaters could pass their hiding spot without the risk of seeing them. From what they could see Florence was busy. It seemed as though a Deatheater and Snatcher were paired up with each other and stationed in prominent areas. It was almost as though they were _sure_ some sort of ambush would be happening and they had to be on their toes.

"This doesn't look good, Bill." Padma whispered. The man swallowed deeply and nodded, realizing full well just how screwed they were from the start.

"We can't leave here without the cloak." Bill answered. "Even if we die trying."

Padma agreed and put her wand in the middle of her hand. Bill plucked out a vial from his pocket that Hermione had given him. It held a bit of the owner of Chelf Press' blood. Mr. Price was connected to the Hallows and this would be the best bet on tightening their search on where the cloak would be. Bill tipped the vial over so a drop could fall onto Padma's wand.

"Point me."

Padma's wand spun in her palm until it came to a halt just behind her, south. She wouldn't need the Point Me spell after this. Her wand would get warmer the closer they were to the cloak and she prayed to Merlin that it would get hot quickly.

"Damn it!"

Padma looked up from her wand in alarm. "What? What is-?"

But she didn't have to ask. Their Disillusionment Charm had worn off in record time. The Deatheaters must've put up barriers against it, and if that was the case, what else had they prepared against?

"They're here!" A Snatcher shouted in their direction.

"Expulso!" Bill shot the curse at him before taking off down the alley with Padma at his heels. At the end of the alley they rounded the corner right and ducked as a spell crashed into the building instead of them.

"Kill them!" The shrill voice of Bellatrix was heard from behind. "Kill them both!"

Neither Bill nor Padma dared to look back to see how many Deatheaters and Snatchers were chasing them. What they did know was that they had to run in as much as a zig-zag as possible to dodge the oncoming spells and curses as Padma felt her wand heat up even more. And then cool down…

"Wait! Wait! Turn back here!" Padma shouted as she swiveled on her heel. Bill had done the same, putting up a shield charm that had stopped two spells, but allowed one in. It hit him in the shoulder and he felt pain travel all down his arm. Luckily for him it wasn't his wand arm because right now he couldn't feel it.

"Bombarda Maxima!" Padma called out. Not normally used on people, but seeing the horde knocked off their arses and onto each other –some even having a limb or two blown off –was a pleasant delight. She turned down the street where her wand had warmed up last with Bill still behind her.

"It's getting really hot now, Bill! Bill?"

Padma skidded to a halt when she saw him looking disoriented and slumping against a building. Her heartrate skyrocketed as she saw Amycus and Alecto Carrow running towards them. She swallowed, bracing herself as more enemies barreled down the street.

"Eliza, now!"

Padma turned her head wildly, looking for the witch the voice _had_ to belong to despite her disbelief. However, she couldn't find it. Instead there was a small house elf in the middle of the street with her large hands outstretched. A shield erupted from her and kept the Deatheaters and Snatchers at bay. Bill grunted from where he was and Padma turned, her mouth agape as she saw him being helped to his feet by a disembodied head.

" _Fiona?_ "

* * *

When Fiona had left Blaise's summer home, she had no idea just what she had planned to do once she'd gotten to Florence. She knew that she had to find Bill and Padma, and so she had used Adrian's coin to message them with the hopes that they could tell her where they were. However, the moment she had gotten to the city, she imagined that they would be a bit too distracted to reply.

Deatheaters were _everywhere_. Snatchers were on the alert. Adrian had told her this much, but to actually see it with her own eyes, it made the danger just that much real. Not to mention that she was supposed to be dead. What would happen if one of them saw her face? It would be much too much hope on her part to think that they were seeing a ghost and be terrified out of their wits. They all went to Hogwarts for Merlin's sake.

She took a deep breath and backed into the shadows with her wand in hand and the hood of a cloak she'd stolen over her head. Eliza, the blessed house elf that she was, had managed to get her wand and Fiona was ecstatic to have it back. A wand was an extension of yourself and she finally felt whole again.

A Snatcher walked by her hiding spot and Fiona raised her wand.

"Imperio."

The Snatcher immediately stopped walking and stared dead ahead.

"Walk towards me."

He did. Once neatly nestled in the dark between two buildings she ordered him again.

"Tell me where the Dark Lord is."

It would be better to use Veritaserum, but being compelled by a curse to tell the truth was still a pretty good substitute. Fiona could see him trying to resist it, but she tightened her grip on her wand to force it out of him. Eventually he cracked.

"He was at Santa Maria del Fiore last I saw of him."

Fiona scoffed. Of course Voldemort would choose a historic location to taint his presence with. She took a moment to look at the street signs and felt her anxiety rise knowing just how close she was to him. She needed to put distance between them and _fast._

Fiona dropped the curse and promptly stunned him afterwards. She glanced down the street and, seeing no one, hasted her way down and making a left once she had reached the intersection.

 _What would Bill and Padma do? Where would they go?_

Her eyes darted about, all of her feeling completely uneasy at the fact that the street she was currently walking down was empty. _Empty._ Not a single Deatheater or Snatcher down this way, but how when just a block over they were swarming like insects? And then that's when she felt it. Like eyes were watching her, but she couldn't tell from where it was coming from. She couldn't start blindly firing spells. All that would do would just attract unwanted attention. And so she kept walking. She kept her hood on her tightly, listening out for the voices of Deatheaters afar off, but eerily aware of footsteps following her. And then she felt someone's breath.

Fiona swiftly turned around with her wand pointed, but felt an invisible hand grasp hers. Instinctively she used her free hand to scratch at her invisible attacker, but she didn't get his or her face. Instead her hand touched a silvery material that fell away and remained clasped in her hand.

" _Neville?_ "

" _Fiona?_ " Neville gasped. He blinked twice in shock before fully enveloping her in a hug. "What are you doing here? How did you even know Luna and I-"

"She's here too?" Fiona questioned. "Oh, thank Merlin. Where is she? We shouldn't talk out here in open like this."

"It's fine. There's a load of wards over these two blocks to keep people away. Malevolent people," he added, which explained why she had managed to make it through. However, Fiona still had her reservations.

" _People_ , not creatures like the Dark Lord if he comes this way. I have no doubts that he can blast through this."

Neville's face was grim. He nodded, encouraging her to follow him just one more block where Luna sitting on the stairs of an abandoned building. Even in the middle of a war, watching her enemies come close to the barriers, but turning away without realizing that something was wrong, she loved peaceful, albeit ready to fight with her wand clutched by her side.

"Luna,"

The blonde turned in Neville's direction and smiled once she saw Fiona.

"It's been a long time. Are you well, Fiona?"

Fiona couldn't help but smile back. "I've been better. How did you two make it so far from London? All the others who weren't on missions hadn't scattered this much."

"Deatheaters were quite interested in that." Luna pointed to the invisibility cloak still in Fiona's hand. "We've been running a lot."

"And hiding a lot." Neville added. "Until we ended up here. You-Know-Who's put his heavy-hitters here, making it hard for us to leave. And now this." He frowned at the mass he could see from here. "I don't know why he's so adamant this time around."

"He must've heard already then." Fiona furrowed her brow. "But I don't know how."

"Heard what?"

"The Order. We're attacking. Bill and Padma are around here somewhere. They came for the cloak and to find you."

"And yet you find us and the cloak first." Luna said delightedly as she stood. "We should find them."

"And we'll bring them back through here." Neville continued with determination. "At least that way we can think of a plan on getting out of here behind a safety net."

"Or until You-Know-Who gets through. But it still sounds good to me." Fiona nodded. "I just wish I knew a good place to start."

Just then a very familiar and maniacal voice sliced through the air. _"Kill them! Kill them both!_ "

Luna frowned. "Sounds like we know where Bill and Padma are."

Fiona began to run. She knew Neville and Luna were following closely behind her and once they were through the wards, she could hear spells being cast over her head –blocking impending curses and taking out anyone who was coming in their direction.

" _Bombarda Maxima!"_

Fiona curtailed right in the direction of the spell she'd just heard and slipped the invisibility cloak over herself. She darted down the street, pausing when she saw Padma looking panicked and Bill like he'd pass out at any moment. Not to mention her own mother and uncle leading the charge.

"Eliza, now!" Fiona called for the house elf. She had asked for one more favor before fleeing Blaise's summer home and this was it. House elf magic was really powerful stuff when not suppressed by its owner, and the barrier that she projected was enough to keep the Deatheaters at bay.

"Bill," she said as she went over to him. The cloak slipped from her head, but she wasn't concentrating on that. Instead she slapped his face repeatedly to get him to recognize her. "Bill, come on. Look at me."

"Fiona?" Padma said with her jaw dropped.

"Padma,"

She whipped around and nearly fell to the ground when she saw Neville running up to her with Luna at his side.

"Neville? Luna? I can't… I can't believe it!"

"It's good to see you too." Neville replied as he hugged her. "But we're going to have to enjoy a reunion later. Fiona," he addressed her. "Can he walk?"

"Barely," she grunted. "Help me get him away from the wall."

Neville jogged over. Padma's eyes followed him, still in denial that he was here. Luna, on the other hand, had her eyes on the house elf who was still holding up a more than decent shield. That, however, wasn't going to last very long.

"We have to go!" Luna shouted at everyone. Padma gasped, her wand in her hand, while Neville and Fiona, an arm each of Bill's slung over their shoulders, each felt a chill running down their spines.

Voldemort, in all his evil flesh, had pushed his way through the crowd. The moment the group of resistance members saw the man's wand raised they knew that Eliza's shield was going to break within seconds.

"Get back to the wards!" Neville yelled and everyone hauled their arses. Luna was far in front, Padma after, while Neville and Fiona were dragging Bill as best they could. Voldemort had taken his strongest curse against the shield but it hadn't broken despite Eliza wobbling on her feet. Fiona felt her heart break for the house elf who had been so good to her.

"Eliza, let it go!" Fiona screamed, glancing back as she continued to run. She could barely hear the creature's reply as the sound of her shield breaking stretched for miles, sounding like a thousand mirrors had broken all at once. Her panic levels had already been high, but now even more so knowing that they were at least two blocks away from the warded street where they would be safe, if not for a few minutes. Voldemort was moments away from catching them.

"Take my hand!" A battered Eliza shouted as she appeared next to Fiona. Fiona wasted no time and latched on. They disapparated further down the block to catch up to Luna and Padma who both held onto her. "Where is Miss Carrow going?!"

"Hogwarts! Hogwarts!"

Internally thanking house elf magic, Fiona felt the familiar pull on her navel yet again, her eyes widening as she saw the look of comprehension on Voldemort's face. He had heard, and she was certain that he and his whole army would be arriving on Hogwarts grounds soon.

* * *

 _Forbidden Forest_

Hermione was kneeling by Ron's side with her wand pointed directly at his face. Draco was standing afar off as he watched his witch pronounce the spell that would wake him up.

"Rennervate,"

Ron's eyes snapped open at once and Hermione let her wand fall by her side.

"Ron? Ron, are you okay?" She asked him. He seemed to be disorientated. He blinked several times, shaking his head a bit too, and finally looked at her when he was done. No, not _at_ her. He was staring just off to her right where Draco was already bracing himself.

" _YOU!_ "

"Ron!" Hermione shouted, but it was too late. Despite having been unconscious and possibly hurt, Ron was up on his feet and charging at Draco. Draco had his fist ready and punched him dead in the face, earning yet another screech from the brunette and possibly a glare. That glare he didn't see because Ron had recovered well from the hit and the both of them were fighting like muggles.

"You cursed me!" Ron shouted. "You cursed me and let that bastard brand me!"

"I cursed you because I had to, you ungrateful arse!" Draco shouted back. He shouted again as Ron punched him the nose. The blond got him back by getting him in the jaw. "You would've been killed!"

"I was forced _to kill!_ _For two years!_ I was nothing but a dog to you people!"

Hermione had her wand out trying to separate them, but they were moving too much for her to get a proper lock on them. Her spell could hurt them otherwise.

"Stop it!" She yelled at them. "Stop it right now!"

Unknown to Hermione, her shouts had captured the attention of three sets of ears who had just apparated to the Forbidden Forest. The next thing she knew there was a spell shot right at the feuding pair that separated them better than anyone could've hoped –including knocking Ron a few feet back.

Hermione turned to the direction of the spell and was utterly incapable of not letting her mouth drop.

"Mrs. Malfoy?"

Narcissa didn't pay her any mind but instead went straight to her son who was spitting out blood ungracefully onto the forest floor. Angelina and Adrian were here too and the former went to go check on Ron who was still fuming.

"You could've hurt them you know." Hermione grumbled. Narcissa glanced at her and then huffed.

"I wouldn't have hurt Draco. _Him_ on the other hand I could've cared less about."

"Mother, what are you doing here? What the _hell_ is she doing here, Adrian?" Draco directed his next question. Adrian rubbed his hand nervously at the back of his neck under the blond's harsh gaze.

"We were rescuing her –Angelina and me. She wouldn't go and wanted to come here instead."

" _And you let her?_ "

"He's a boy, Draco." Narcissa said with a dignified raise of her chin. "He didn't _let_ me do anything. I wasn't going to let you do this alone."

Draco was at a cross from feeling an extreme admiration for his mother and wanting to disapparate with her to leave her somewhere safe. Before he could make up his mind about the latter, screams and shouts erupted from somewhere in the distance –not to mention what sounded like bombs deep within the forest.

Everyone's face grew stern as Angelina tightened the grip on her wand.

"Deatheaters must be here."

"Which means the Dark Lord is too." Draco added. He encouraged his mother to follow him as he went up to Hermione. "We have to go."

Go? _Go?_ Hermione's mind ranted frantically. "We can't! We didn't even get the chance to regroup!"

"There's no time! Everyone already knows what they have to do, Granger. You just have to trust them to do it."

Draco had taken her hand and attempted to pull her along, but Hermione didn't move. He looked back at her in confusion, but she was slowly shaking her head.

"If that's the case then you have to trust me to do what _I_ have to do." Hermione told him. "Ron and I have to get to that fang."

Draco glanced in the redhead's direction who was still seething. Although he wasn't sure whether it was because of what he did to him or because of how affectionate he'd suddenly become towards his former (current?) love interest. Instead of mulling over it he merely sighed.

"Be careful." Draco begged. " _Please?_ "

Hermione nodded before another awful explosion sounded and rocked the ground beneath their feet. It was in this moment that she realized they were going to be separated in a war that they might not make it back from. Could this honestly be the last time she might see him? Crying now would've weakened her resolve. Instead she grabbed him by the collar and kissed him despite those who were watching. They were pulled away by more shouts and Adrian's tug on Draco's arm while Hermione was tugged by Ron.

Off they went, Draco, Narcissa, Angelina, and Adrian off to the Hogwarts grounds while Hermione and Ron headed straight for the castle.

* * *

 **Author's note:** With everyone at Hogwarts, I can safely say that the next chapter will be the last!

-WP :)

Replies to Guests

 **Karlie:** Thought that might get you lol. I love a good plot twist!


	43. The End and a Beginning

_The Castle_

Arthur and Dennis had apparated with Dean and Percy to the Forbidden Forest. Each pair had wished the other luck as they went their separate ways to do their respective tasks. The former were here to get what little students still attended Hogwarts and to bring them back to the (relative) safety of the forest. Any malevolent creature that may be been lurking in there was far better than the warzone that would be taking place all over the castle and the grounds.

"Who's running the school now?" Dennis asked. "Do you know?"

"Low-level Deatheaters last I heard." Arthur replied. "Still doesn't mean they won't kill you though."

Dennis swallowed. "Right."

They both wove their way through the dense forest until they made it to the edge. From where they stood, they could see Hagrid's hut and beyond it Hogwarts in the distance. What they also saw were two of Voldemort's follows standing guard closest to the castle.

"Think they're afraid the students are going to escape in the dead of night?" Dennis cheekily questioned.

"Looks like it." Arthur scoffed. "There's nothing but open ground here. We're going to have to rush them. Cover me?"

"No, you cover me. No offense, Mr. Weasley, but I think I can rush them a _bit_ quicker than you."

Arthur smiled appreciatively before giving Dennis the okay. That's when he ran. Dennis hauled his arse across the grounds and immediately captured the attention of the two followers near the castle's entrance. He blocked on-coming spells and curses as others flew from behind him and up ahead. One of Arthur's spells knocked one man to the ground, the other missed the second one and Dennis dropped to the ground. He kicked at his legs and down he went. Dennis rolled over just in time to see Arthur shooting a Stunning Spell at his back.

"Do you think anyone heard us?" Dennis asked as he got up. Arthur shrugged.

"Don't know, but let's get a move on in case someone did and move these two out of the way in case we're still in the clear."

Dennis and Arthur dumped the bodies into nearby shrubbery and then made their way inside the illustrious castle –although "illustrious" was now a bit of a stretch. The school had been repaired since Battle of Hogwarts, but not well. Not to mention the warmth that it once had was completely gone. In the middle of the courtyard was a pedestal. A harmless piece of architecture, but it filled the resistance members' minds of something heinous when they noticed the dried blood on and around it.

"Get back!" Arthur hissed as he pulled Dennis in front of an arch. More of Voldemort's followers were roaming –four in a group this time and too many to take on at once. They waited until they were gone before they finally entered the castle's halls.

"Gryffindor's the closest House from here." Dennis said as he began to lead the way. "Then we can head to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

"Don't forget Slytherin."

Dennis chuckled before halting his steps and peering around the corner. "Do we have to?"

"They're just kids, Dennis."

"Right. And the last person we thought was 'just a kid' let Deatheaters into the school. Come on, the coast is clear."

Silence.

"Mr. Weasley?"

Dennis tightened his hold on his wand before turning around and immediately having to dodge the Killing Curse that would've got him in the back.

"Augamenti!" Dennis pointed his wand at the man's throat. At an object like a cup the spell would fill with water. However, aimed at one's throat would make someone choke –essentially like drowning. Arthur was on the ground, not unconscious, but holding his bleeding side. "Merlin…"

"I'm fine, I promise." Arthur told him, but the blood rushing out of his side was saying otherwise. Dennis lifted his shirt and grimaced at the wound as he took his wand and wrapped bandages on him.

"You have to hide. Lay low."

Arthur's eyes widened. "But the students-"

"You need proper treatment and running around the castle isn't going to help."

"You can't round them all up by yourself."

Dennis frowned as he saw how quickly his bandages were getting soaked through. "I don't have a choice."

* * *

 _The Forbidden Forest_

"This place is denser than I remember." Percy said as he pushed himself past clustered trees and stepped over mud puddles. Dean glanced back at him and smirked.

"Than you remember, huh? Not to be rude, Perce, but I never had you pegged for the type to go trudging around the Forbidden Forest."

"And I wasn't. Unfortunately students who should've been in bed were."

Dean snickered. "Of course."

The two of them had been walking for a full ten minutes already. Harry's body had been buried deep within the forest closest to the centaurs' breeding grounds. Who better to protect their friend while he eternally slept than wild, bow and arrow-carrying creatures?

The closer they got to the grounds, the more hooves they could hear as well as voices. The centaurs actually seemed quite riled up, and it turned out to be the case once they finally got close enough.

"Do you know something we don't, Firenze?" Dean asked once their friend (and their favorite centaur) reached them. "You guys look like you're preparing for war."

"I ran into your friend, Hermione Granger." Firenze answered. "She informed me of what was going on and we're all getting ready."

"Leave it to Hermione to be ten steps ahead." Percy smiled. "You know why we're here then."

"Yes. I shall lead you to him."

Firenze paved the way past his fellow centaurs –those practicing their archery skills, sharpening their arrowheads, and putting on armor. They walked through all of that until they reached a small clearing. In this small clearing, a few trees had been chopped down and it was heavily protected by spells set up by Hermione herself. Luckily she had taught them how to break through or else there'd be no getting to Harry's body otherwise. That in itself took another ten minutes, and by the end the centaurs were in an uproar.

"What's going on?!" Percy shouted.

"The signal!" Firenze shouted back as he readied his bow and arrow. "The signal has been sounded!"

"Signal? What signal?"

"Screaming and shouting!" He replied before galloping off with the rest of his group to dive into war. It was only after they had gone a ways off that Percy and Dean could hear it: shouts and screams and the sound of things exploding.

"We need to dig him up quickly!" Dean said as he pointed his wand at the ground. So did Percy and they began chucking away dirt faster than the blink of an eye.

* * *

Hermione and Ron had had an easy entry into the castle considering there was no one guarding it like they had imagined. They ran through the courtyard, making sure to keep an eye out for anyone they had to take down along the way. However happy they were to see a Deatheater dead, they weren't quite prepared to find Arthur propped up against the wall with blood coming from his side and pooling on the ground beside him.

Hermione gasped. "Is he…?"

Ron blinked back his tears as he walked over to his father and checked for a pulse. "He's dead."

They stood in silence for a moment before Hermione spoke, tears streaming down her face.

"Ron," Hermione said with a sob in her throat. "We have to go. We can't stay here."

Ron nodded and took a moment to close his father's eyes and put a hand on his shoulder before focusing back on the mission at hand and following Hermione down the halls. As they ran a scream was heard overhead followed by a body flying across the hall.

Hermione had her wand steady and prayed she didn't miss. "Arresto Momento!"

"Was that a student?!" Ron exclaimed as the student fell to the ground softly. It sure seemed so once Hermione got a little closer. A Gryffindor student. Probably a Sixth or Seventh Year who had decided to stick around and fight.

More shouts and the sounds of clashing spells were obvious now and right in the direction that they had to go. Hermione and Ron charged forward, wands at the ready, and diving head-first in a fight between Deatheater faculty and Gryffindor students.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione shouted before a Deatheater could curse a student. Said student was at a cross between being grateful and stunned at finding _the_ Hermione Granger tossing spells and curses left and right.

"Hermione, duck!" Ron yelled at her. Hermione did just that and felt a rush of air as a jet of green light went overhead. She looked up just in time to see her attacker get taken down with a Body Bind and Ron rushed forward, grabbed her by the hand, and they kept on going.

It seemed as though wherever Dennis went to collect students a subset had been left behind, thus leaving the school in its own little war. The most masterful fight was occurring on the staircases –a mélange of different Houses battling "teachers" as the stairs moved this way and that. Hermione spotted a bunch more "faculty" running down a set of stairs. A strong _Bombarda_ on her end destroyed the stairs and down they went along with debris in a fit of screams.

Hermione and Ron practically skid into the bathroom where the Chamber of Secrets was located, Moaning Myrtle floating around and watching them from above.

"Going back down there again, are you?" Moaning Myrtle asked.

"Unfortunately," Ron chuckled as he checked the faucets for the appropriate sink.

"Have you thought about how you'll get out afterwards?" Ron asked Hermione.

"We can go back the way we came." She replied. "Like we did last time."

"And slide upwards?"

"Magic is good for a reason."

"If you say so."

"Now is _not_ a good time to annoy me, Ron."

"Were you talking to me, Hermione?" Ron questioned her. Hermione blinked. Ron was by the Chamber's entrance, already opened, and ready for them to jump through. She sucked in a shot of air in disbelief and caught Myrtle's curious stare.

Hermione cleared her throat. "No, just…mumbling to myself. Let's go."

* * *

Adrian, Angelina, Draco, and Narcissa ducked branches, ran through bushes, and hopped over mountainous logs as they raced through the forest to make it to Hogwarts' grounds. Angelina was far out ahead when she tripped, causing everyone following her to stop in their tracks. Not to mention the groan that came after that _clearly_ didn't belong to her.

"Where is it coming from?" Narcissa asked as the groaning continued. Angelina was alarmed as she rolled over onto her back and drew her legs to herself.

"It came from _under_ me."

Draco and Adrian shared nervous yet intrigued glances as they both raised their wands to the patch of ground that Angelina had tripped over. Draco hesitantly leaned over with his hand outstretched. He was surprised, although not really, to feel something hard just above the ground –and it was under a slippery surface.

Draco pulled the invisibility cloak off and revealed Bill sprawled out on the ground and laboring to breathe.

"Bill!" Angelina cried as she crawled over to him. "Bill? Bill are you alright? What happened?"

"His arm looks paralyzed." Adrian noted. "Right? It's not just me?"

"Paralyzed?" Narcissa repeated. "Quick, let me see."

The small crowd parted while Narcissa assessed the situation. Bill's arm was tight and held closed to his chest. The rest of him seemed quite still as well –like a Body Bind, but not really. Something she was all too familiar with considering it was Ivan Greengrass' favorite curse. She angled her wand at the wounded man's arm –the crux of the curse flowing through his body –and reversed it. No sooner than she had Bill shot up into a sitting position, gasping for air.

"Take it easy." Narcissa told him. "Deep breaths."

Bill's eyes widened at the sight of her and he immediately went for his wand. Draco, however, promptly stepped in front of her.

"Watch where you point that thing, Weasley." He warned. "She's on our side, remember?"

Bill slowly released his wand as he nodded and he flexed his now un-cursed arm

"Where's Padma?" Angelina asked.

"Out there fighting with Fiona, I expect." Bill replied as he wobbly got to his feet. Adrian's heart sped up at the mention of his girlfriend's name and his eyes immediately travelled to the smoke rising into the sky and the sounds of destruction on the Hogwarts grounds. " _And_ with Neville and Luna."

"You found them!"

"And the cloak it seems." Draco said as he held the innocuous Horcrux in his hands. He quickly cast an Undetectable Extension Charm on his pocket so that he could stuff the cloak inside. With Bill now part of their entourage the five of them continued their run.

The closer they got to the school the more visible the chaos could be seen. Deatheaters fighting against people Draco didn't know –the ally network he could only assume. He could hear Fiona somewhere in the mass. Adrian did too and so he pushed past everyone and ran towards the battle with his wand going as he went. On an impulse Draco kept his eyes out for Hermione, but he knew that she wouldn't be out here yet. And what was going on in the school? Certainly if it was war out here then it was war _in there_ too.

But Draco couldn't think about that now. If he did he would end up running into Hogwarts trying to find her. Instead his eyes caught sight of Ginny tackling two Deatheaters at once. Everyone else had already joined in –even his mother, although she kept looking back at him from time to time.

"Expulso!" Draco shouted when he was close enough to Ginny, taking out the attacker aiming for her back while she dealt with the one at her front.

"I never thought I'd see the day." Came Bellatrix's voice from behind them. Draco set his hard eyes on her as both he and Ginny stood side-by-side. "Running away with mudbloods and fighting alongside traitors." She tutted and then hissed. "You were his favorite!"

Draco smiled. "I'm quite happy to disappoint."

Bellatrix's curse came out faster than he anticipated, but Draco blocked it anyway and saw it hit someone else. She came at him again and all he could do was block while Ginny, Merlin bless her, shot her own bouts of spells and curses at the witch. His aunt, however, was no amateur. She blocked and casted simultaneously, wearing her infamous wicked smile as though she was having the time of her life.

And then Draco miscalculated.

He had thrown up a shield, sure that another curse was coming, but none did. In the split-second it took for his shield to wane, Bellatrix took Ginny's Cruciatus and redirected it at him. Draco went down and he spasmed violently. She followed up Ginny's curse with one of her own and he forced himself to clamp down on his teeth so he didn't bite off his tongue as the force of his aunt's torturing travelled through every limb of his body. He kept waiting for someone to intervene –namely Ginny, but she was distracted by another attacker. Instead he was left to writhe on the ground, his wand having fallen out of his hand, and feeling as though his heart might explode from sheer agony.

"Accio wand!" A familiar voice said from above him. "Avada Kedavra!"

The Killing Curse hit Bellatrix straight in the chest and her look of surprise followed her in death as she fell to the ground.

"You looked like you needed a bit of help."

Draco, fighting off his residual pain, craned his neck as his eyes focused in on the figure standing above him. "G-Georgie?"

"The one and only," Georgie grinned as he carefully helped him up and handed him back his wand. "Try not to get your arse killed, will you?"

"Or you –watch it!" Draco shouted as he shot a spell over Georgie's shoulder at Rodolphus.

"You killed my wife!"

"She's better off dead!"

"DRACO MOVE!"

* * *

 _Edinburgh Castle_

When Lucius had woken up he had been in disbelief that his own son had stunned him. But then again, he probably thought the worst of him right about now, so how could he blame him? On the other hand he did blame one person at this moment and, from his dazed perspective, he had heard that damn _Blaise Zabini_ was still at Edinburgh Castle. Because of him, things did _not_ go according to plan. Draco was gone and with that mudblood –at Hogwarts, so it seemed.

Lucius had never been to Edinburgh Castle before. Draco had been quite adamant about not making his presence known there, and so he hadn't. Not that he had been particularly interested. However, now that he was searching through an enormous castle for one person he certainly wished that he had. In the end he had ended up casting _Homenem Revelio_ several times before it finally revealed something. The first time it worked he had stumbled upon Daphne Greengrass. He didn't care to know why she was peacefully slumbering while everyone else had gone off to war. On the next try he found the person he was looking for, and then he frowned.

The Zabini boy did _not_ look well.

"Stop bloody looking at me like that." Blaise said from where he lay. He had woken up not more than fifteen minutes ago feeling like death. He had been trying to wake up longer than that but kept drifting in and out of consciousness. He vaguely remembered his house elf Eliza tending to him before blacking out again. He knew her and that she would have done all she could to help him. For him to feel the way that he did even after her help… Daphne must have worked quite the number on him.

"Where's Draco?" Blaise questioned.

"What happened to you?" Lucius countered.

"Tortured. Daphne was under the impression that I murdered her sister. She nearly killed me."

Lucius raised a curious brow. "Did she really? Hmm, that girl is more skillful than I thought."

"Yes, yes, let's be proud of the witch who nearly sent me six feet under." Blaise sneered as he attempted to get out of bed. He groaned as he moved and felt pain radiate throughout his body.

"What do you think you're doing?" Lucius snapped.

"What do you think? We still have to get to Draco. Where is he?"

"Are you mad, boy? You can barely move!"

"I'm aware. But I'm also aware of the fact that Draco's stupid arse is still out there."

"No." Lucius said sternly as he tried to push Blaise back into bed. "You'll die if you leave here. I cannot in good conscience-"

"Good conscience," Blaise chuckled. "Coming from you that's bloody priceless. And maybe you do mean it. However, I'm leaving whether you like it or not and whether you tell me where he is or not. I know how to track him now, so I can very well do this without you."

Lucius was well within his rights to put a Body Bind on the boy and keep him where he was. He could've also stunned him. That would certainly work. But he knew the look in Blaise's eyes because he was sure it was one that he had in his own: the need to protect someone. With a sigh Lucius grabbed his arm and pulled out his apparating coin.

"He's at Hogwarts."

* * *

Hermione had felt an enormous sense of dread the first time she had come into the Chamber of Secrets. This time was no different.

Ron went straight for the snake's mouth and started yanking out teeth, being careful not to stab himself in the process. Hermione stood watching all the while trying to tune out pseudo-Ron's voice in her ear telling her that everything would be okay and not to worry.

" _Will you shut up?!_ "

"Hermione, are you okay?"

Hermione looked at him and found that he had one fang stuck in his belt, two in each hand, offering her one of them.

"I'm fine. Promise. We should go. We don't know how bad the fight is up there."

She turned around to head out of the Chamber, but Ron held onto her hand.

"Wait," Ron said as he pulled her back. "Can I…? Can I ask you something?"

"Ron," Hermione shook her head, knowing exactly what was on her friend's mind. "Now isn't the time. There's a war going on out there. We haven't time to-"

"We could die once we leave here. It's just one question, and then after that we can go."

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright, what is it?"

"Malfoy. Just…why him? Of all people, Hermione. _Especially_ knowing what he did to me. Why?"

"I don't know, Ron. I wish I could tell you, but I honestly can't. Sometimes…there just isn't a _why_. There just _is_. I know that's not the answer you're looking for, but I hope you don't hate me for it."

"I could never hate you." He replied, albeit a bit sadly. "You'll _always_ be my best friend, Hermione. I'll support you no matter what you do –even though _who_ you're doing I want to throttle to death. It's what friends do. Just don't expect me to like it. Or him for that matter."

Hermione felt her eyes prickle, but she held her cries back. Instead she hugged him and sighed happily. "Thank you. Just don't go punching him in the face again, alright?"

Ron chuckled. "No promises. Let's go."

Hermione followed Ron out of the chamber and they hastened their way back where they came. A well-placed Levitating Charm on them both was used to get them back up the entrance. It was dangerous, considering that any lack of concentration would have them falling several feet into the pile of rat bones they had slid into in the first place.

The school was unnervingly quiet, but out on the grounds the noise level had increased dramatically. It seemed as though the fight inside had trickled outside, although not without leaving behind bodies of Deatheater faculty and students alike. They ran over them, nearly slipping in pools of blood and stubbing their feet on loose debris. Before they could even properly make it outside they heard it: Voldemort's maniacal laughter clearly enjoying himself at someone else's expense.

Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances before they made it out onto the grounds. Hermione nearly dropped the fang in her hand as her heart stopped in her chest.

"Draco…"

* * *

Blaise nearly fell on his feet once he had touched Hogwarts' grounds. He didn't realize how much he needed Lucius' support to stand, but the man had promptly left him. If he had heard correctly, the man had said his wife's name and then fled. Was she here too? Of course she would be. He didn't know how when Lucius was supposed to have gotten her to some safe house, but a mother's love could take her anywhere in the world –the universe even.

Despite being in the middle of a battle, everything around him seemed slowed. It seemed…unreal. It seemed as though everyone was ignoring him or that he was in a glass bubble and safely watching everything from a distance. Or maybe he simply wasn't feeling that well. What he _did_ see, however, was the very blond that he had come to find. Bellatrix had just dropped dead (thank Merlin) and that drunk from Andy's pub was helping him up. Was he part of the resistance too? Rodolphus tried to curse them, but Draco deflected it. Now it was two on one. The fight was taking away so much of Draco's attention that he didn't see it. He didn't know what was happening.

"Draco," Blaise said in a poor shout as he limped towards him. He raised his hand, but realized a little too late that he didn't have his wand. _How_ could he have forgotten his wand?

"Draco!" He yelled better this time, but still the blond didn't hear him. Blaise began to run. " _Draco!_ " He pushed people out of his way, not caring if it was a fellow Deatheater or resistance member. He just needed to get to Draco. He needed to warn him of the oncoming curse that was almost finished, the tip of Voldemort's wand lighting up.

"DRACO MOVE!"

Draco heard someone call his name. He turned, his eyes widening at the sight of Voldemort with his wand raised and a curse coming straight towards him. He was ready to block it, but it didn't hit him. Instead it hit a person who had jumped in front of him and took the curse straight in his chest.

"BLAISE!"

Blaise dropped immediately. Draco fell to his knees beside him and saw how badly his body had erupted in deep gashes and how quickly blood was leaving him.

"You…arse." Blaise panted, his hand weakly clasped onto Draco's shoulder. "I told you to move. I…t-told you to move..."

"Blaise? Blaise!" Draco called as his friend's words trailed off, but it was too late. His hand dropped from his shoulder with a lifeless flap onto the concrete. He was dead –mouth slightly agape and his still eyes settled on Draco.

"Aimed for a traitor and yet I got another one." Voldemort smiled wickedly as he laughed. "Still a win in my book."

Draco rarely ever cried. It hurt him more than anyone could understand to do it now –now with Voldemort not more than five feet away from him, his dark, cold eyes happily devouring the situation.

"No need to worry." Voldemort continued as his wand aimed at Draco. "You'll see him on the other side of the veil soon enough."

Draco rolled out of the way before the Killing Curse could get him. He was in trouble. He knew that. How did you fight someone who couldn't die? It was impossible. All he could do was duck and dodge and bring up shields as best he could because anything he could come up with would only bounce off him and redirect at either himself or someone else.

On the other side of the grounds was Percy and Dean, both of them awkwardly lugging a lifeless Harry between them. Voldemort didn't see –too busy trying to kill Draco, but the blond did. He also saw Hermione on the completely other side of the fighting arena, running far ahead of Ron with her wand drawn and a basilisk fang in her hand. Both sets of people needed to get here at the same time. It needed to be timed _perfectly_ for this to work. And so Draco had to stall.

"What hurts you more, I wonder?" Draco asked as he deflected the Killing Curse for the umpteenth time. "That there are traitors in your rank, or the fact that the traitor was me?"

Voldemort snarled. "You think too highly of yourself."

Draco chuckled. He could see Hermione more clearly now, and Dean and Percy were almost here. "So I've been told. But maybe the real reason you're upset," he paused and stuffed his hand into his pocket, pulling out the shimmery invisibility cloak and watched with great amusement at how much Voldemort's face had shifted. "Is because I got my hands on this before you could."

Voldemort was enraged. "GIVE ME THAT!"

So many things happened all at once that it was hard to comprehend. Dean and Percy dropped Harry's body beside the dueling pair. Draco flipped the cloak over himself, quickly becoming invisible to everyone. Hermione had jumped in front of where Draco once stood, her arm outstretched with the fang in her hand and ready to strike. And Ron had slowed his steps, pausing at something that seemed to be appearing out of midair underneath a pile of rubble.

Hermione screeched in alarm and fright when Voldemort caught her wrist as it swung. He twisted her wrist, and the fang fell to the ground in a clatter as she dropped to her knees because of the pain.

"Hermione!" Percy shouted. A spell was on his lips in an attempt to help her, but she watched in horror as Voldemort killed him before he could properly get it out.

"Potter's body and a basilisk fang." Voldemort sneered as he assessed the situation. His snake eyes glanced at Dean once before settling properly onto Hermione. "My, my, what have we been plotting?"

"Let her go!" Came Draco's disembodied voice.

"Give me the cloak and she goes free." Voldemort countered as his eyes looked all around him for where Draco could be.

"No."

Voldemort laughed. "Clearly you don't love the mudblood as much as I thought you did." He pointed his wand at Hermione's chest. "Avada Ked-!"

Draco ripped the cloak from off of him "NO!"

Hermione closed her eyes and waited for death, but it didn't come. Instead she heard a muffled cry mingled with shock from the creature before her. It caused her to open her eyes and she stared in surprise at five inches of a silver protruding from his stomach.

Voldemort let Hermione go and she fell back, crawling backwards as she watched blood mingled with black goo spill from his mouth and his wound. The sword was pulled out of him and from behind him was Ron, holding the Sword of Gryffindor.

Voldemort's wand dropped from him. It seemed that with that sound, no matter how soft it was, was loud enough to cause the entire battle around them to stop. Resistance members, students, centaurs, and Deatheaters alike all halted their movements and tried to make sense of what they were watching. Voldemort fell to his knees and soon after onto his side. From his mouth and wound was no longer blood and goo, but rather thick, black smoke rising out of it. There was something else too, a white, shimmering light. That light didn't disappear into the air like the smoke did. Instead it travelled. It travelled to Harry's body that lay on the ground and settled inside.

Everyone watched with deeply held breaths and waited for something to happen. Seconds. Maybe minutes. And when Harry's eyelids began to flicker, his eyes opening, and his chest moving as he took slow breaths, the world began to move again.

Deatheaters started disapparating on the spot. Those who didn't get away so quickly were trapped with Body Binds and tightly conjured _Incarcerous_ spells. Hermione scrambled to Harry's side, tears partly obscuring her vision.

"Harry?" She choked. "Harry? Can you hear me?"

Harry turned his head, blinking as though to settle his vision and squinting. "Hermione?"

Tears spilled faster down Hermione's face than she could've imagined. "Harry! You're alive! You're _actually_ alive!"

"I was dead?"

"Yes and no. Your body was, but your soul was still here. If you look at it that way, then technically speaking you never really died, and-"

"Granger," Draco smiled. "You're rambling."

Harry turned to him. "Malfoy?"

"I can't believe I'm actually happy you're alive." Draco shook his head. "Somebody find

Weaselette and tell her that her boyfriend's back from the afterlife."

"Here, mate." Ron said, tears of his own falling neatly as he knelt down beside him. He had the Elder Wand in his head and slipped it into Harry's. "This is yours."

Harry stared at the wand, and then he finally looked around him. Ron, Dean, Percy –dead –Hermione, Malfoy standing behind her and, for some reason, his hand on her shoulder and holding _his_ invisibility cloak.

He swallowed. "I missed something big…didn't I?"

Hermione laughed. "More than you could ever comprehend, Harry."

* * *

Despite having been without her best friend for years, Hermione and Ron had graciously relinquished Harry over to Ginny so that she could fawn over him. There was still a lot of work to be done. Harry needed to be checked by a Healer as soon as possible. Seamus had already offered to do a psych evaluation. Deatheaters who had been captured today had been carted off to Hogwarts' dungeons for safe keeping. The Ministry was still corrupt and needed to be fully fleshed out before they could be brought there and tried. Although still problematic, with Voldemort dead very few of his followers would be able to put up much of a fight.

Hermione sat with Draco on the stairs leading up to the Great Hall. Everyone who was injured was in there getting treated as best they could. They had been in there for so long that the sun had risen fully in the sky by now and the pair of them had been desperate to see some light that wasn't caused by fire and spells.

"I still can't believe he's dead." Draco said. Hermione nodded, the war's events replaying in her mind, trying to find fault to negate all the good that had happened just in case this was too good to be true.

"I'm sorry that Blaise is too. If it weren't for Fiona or the fact that he took that curse for you, I wouldn't have dreamed that he was on our side."

Draco shook his head. "He wasn't. He was on _mine._ "

Hermione couldn't help but agree.

"Even after all of this there's still a war to fight." She sighed after a while. Draco titled his head to the side in confusion.

"You mean rounding up the remaining Deatheaters? The Ministry?"

"That too, but I meant with _us_. Our…problems."

Hermione had tapped a finger to her head and Draco understood. He awkwardly rubbed his arm and nodded.

"…I haven't seen Giselle since you and Charlie left for Chelf Press."

"I heard Ron in my head when we were in the chamber."

Draco frowned. "We'll get through it. I help you, you help me. Deal?"

Hermione smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Mental problems aren't that easy. We might be helping each other for quite a while. That alright with you?"

"Well," he said as he wrapped an arm around her. "Considering that we've snogged and groped each other twice in front of your friends, I think it's safe to say I'm going to be with you for a good portion of my life –if not forever."

"Is _that_ your only reason? Because we were openly affectionate?" Hermione snorted. "That's hardly reasonable."

"I've fought enough in my life, Hermione. I don't need to take on all of your friends just because I broke your heart."

Hermione shook her head. "You're ridiculous."

"As are you at times." Draco replied. He placed a finger under her chin and made her look at him. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. Although a little less annoying would be nice."

Hermione smacked him on the arm. Draco laughed and then he kissed her. Now that the hard part of the war was over, everything was finally on its way to being alright –however long that process turned out to be.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Forty-three chapters later and we're here! So many things happened here, but I think Blaise's death hurt the most. Curious on your thoughts on him after everything. Draco and Hermione still have their inner demons to beat, but like she said, it won't be easy, but at least they've got each other.

Thank you SO MUCH for sticking with this incredibly long ride. Hope it was worth it :).

-WP


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